


Dreaming in the Dark

by TheOnlyHuman



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Age of Extinction, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Autobot/Decepticon Truce, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Cybertron will be Revived, Everything Hurts, Good Megatron (Transformers), Good decepticons, Holoforms, Holoforms (Transformers), Human Rodimus, I know, Joshua Joyce is friendship goals and cute af, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mute Rodimus, Robot/Human Relationships, Rodimus and Ultra Mags are goals, Rodimus centric, Rodimus has a mission, Silas Stone is a dick, They're a big group, Trans Male Character, Trans Rodimus, Transformium (Transformers), Winter, and James Savoy is even bigger, but Lockdown's an even bigger one, homeless, is set in Bay verse but not cannon to it, not selectively tho, the usual amount of blood and violence that comes with a transformers fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2020-09-23 11:03:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20339068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOnlyHuman/pseuds/TheOnlyHuman
Summary: When Rodimus jumped the gate and trudged through enough mud to drown a man he was not expecting what he'd get at the end of it.Set months before TF4, Age of Extinction. Not exactly canon.





	1. Prologue

Ultra Magnus was no fan of war; especially the stunted quiet it brought with it in between the battles and hardship. It was not five orns past of the Last Prime's departure that they received word from the mech himself. A fact that their forces were overjoyed by, the Prime's quick departure and even quicker response was enough to even make Perceptor excitable.

The small organic-hosting planet, 196 Terra, called Earth by its organics, was in need of protection. Optimus and his main core leaders had settled there, fought against Megatron's SIC and the warlord himself and were now in need of Autobots to fill the ranks, to suitably protect the planet.

Immediately, Ultra Magnus --eager of a new place to reside, a new order to coax after Tyrest's corruption-- had contacted Prime. He'd sent Prowl's team on, telling them to scout the planet. At his order, Prowl's team had withstood a very sudden influx of numbers.

Optimus had taken his transmission, reassuring him that there was alliances forming pleasingly, that the Decpeticons were indeed planet-bound and that the organics milita and weapon array were 'ineffective against Transformers armour, old friend'.

So Ultra Magnus heeded Optimus Prime's message to come to 196 Terra. Expecting Autobots like himself to be there in abundance, bases to be set up and reunions to be made.

What he did not expect, charred earth burning around him, thick atmosphere clogging his vents, was to be met with the business end of a human's obsolete gun.

It was pathetic, truly, if not the gun then the sight alone. To online his optics to this sight was a surprise but to have the organics laugh at him, weapons raised, was a shock.

"Surrender," ordered a greying haired mech --was it 'male' they called themselves?-- human. He held his gun with steady hands, though not steady enough that a powerful vent from Ultra Magnus' stacks wouldn't knock him over.

Remaining silent, Ultra Magnus observed. He noticed the rocky mountains around him first, keeping the other organic's attention away from this area, he identified the forty soldiers looking at him, half with their guns raised, half not. He picked out the six trucks sitting behind them, engines cooled, soil smeared over their windscreens from his landing. Ultra Magnus looked down at the humans' uniforms --black, all identical, visors covering their squishy optics-- and assumed correctly that they were soldiers. Their defensive semi-circle that surrounded him was built to appear stronger than it was.

"You have one chance to back down, _robot." _The mech organic sneered the word with such venom Ultra Magnus privately compared it to Megatron growling Optimus Prime's name. "The lab boys might even go easy on you when they're melting you down."

At Ultra Magnus' last communication with Prime, the humans had been on good terms with the Autobot forces. Privately, he quiered what had happened in that short eighty-second short of a vorn for impressions to change so drastically that he was being held at, an inferior, gunpoint.

A soldier with an itchy trigger finger fired at him, bullet pinging harmlessly off Ultra Magnus' knee joint. The organic before him, obviously the commander of the soldiers, shook his head and nodded once.

Three soldiers stepped forth from the semi-circle, each toting a rocket launcher, although only one fired. It expelled a light, much like that of the Chevy Twins' special cannons, and hit the same spot where the soldier had hit with his bullet.

Magnus took the hit, expecting nothing more than a light tap.

He got a lot more than a light tap.

The energy hit with the force of a stampeeding Predacon buckling his knee out from underneath him. Ultra Magnus hit the scorched soil in a rough kneel, soil smushing along his shin guards. His sensory net radiated pain, kicking him into action as the other two rocket launchers whirred to life.

A soldier twitched in his place. Ultra Magnus lunged, set on the weakness, arm sweeping out to brush the humans aside. His tactical programs were alight with solutions, a hundred of how to escape and hide and a thousand on how to elimanate them all. Maps pinged in his HUD as he connected with the planet's 'World Wide Web'. There had to be forty organics here, their planet had seven billion more -- what was the loss of such few going to do?

The humans screamed and some shot at him with their normal, useless guns. Ultra Magnus lashed out, arm plating flaring to crush the organics. First and foremost he was a Wrecker, and he deigned to create as much chaos as possible, even if his law-abiding self that echoed threats from the Tyrest Accords' days despised the very thought of collateral damage and the helmache that ensued.

The truth of the matter was that Ultra Magnus was raised in battle. He'd been told to go and fight for the Accords and he had, dragging in countless criminals to obey his order. Ultra Magnus was an Autobot now, but he was no stranger to death; sometimes it was the best way to get the job done.

Anyway, if he didn't dispose of these organics they would only come after him and interrupt his search for Prime (who was going to get an audio-full for this, a planet turned against them and he didn't see fit to notify him?). Ultra Magnus had no time to spare for these creatures. Already he would have to take time to recover from that energy shot. Precious time, already lost before it was experienced.

The humans scrambled underfoot as he hauled himself to his full height. Their commander was shouting orders that slowly Ultra Magnus understood as the Earthern languages downloaded.

"Go for its legs. Hurry up! Michael, what happened that EB?"

At the mention of one of the organic's designations one jerked up, a rocket launcher in hand. He fired and Ultra Magnus dove under the wide shot. He squished a few more of the organics, digits curling around the rocket laucher wielder until he screamed and went limp with a crack. Ultra Magnus dropped the organic, finding the feel of the squishy external coverings against his digits distasteful.

While distracted with kicking away a truck that seemed to think it could charge him, Ultra Magnus was hit again by an energy discharge. It caught him on the back and he toppled forward with a grunt. Pulling out his pulse rifle, he blew up the remaining trucks --securing that the organic soldiers remained here for him to finish off-- and turned it on the remaining few. There was only five; the commander and one rocket launcher wielder amongst them.

"I'm going to give you five seconds to stand down, scrap for brains." The commander said. Ultra Magnus was appalled that that was the best insult he could come up with.

"Who are you?" He asked instead, pulse rifle shot going wide enough to only annihilate the three ordinary soldiers that stood with shaking guns. The commander startled, taking a step away from his scorched comrades ashes. The rocket launcher organic shook with fear.

"That's Classified," the organic mech smirked knowingly. Ultra Magnus wondered if this irritation was how his Wreckers felt everytime he said this to them. It was a wonder Blades hadn't killed him already.

"Then, what is this?"

"This?" The commander spread his arms wide, grin jovial. "This is the governments message to fuck off! We don't want your kind here any longer, bolt head, they've messed up enough as it is. We're Cemetery Wind, and we've been formed to exterminate rouge NEST members and all Transformers that refuse to leave."

Ultra Magnus narrowed his optics like Prowl had taken to doing when confronted with another of Sunstreaker's sad pranks; it was a mix of 'unsure' and 'guilty' that brought forth said look. It usually meant that Sunstreaker had pranked someone simply because he missed his twin and it had went wrong. The look meant Prowl was unsure of what action to take, knowing the mech was guilty but was feeling pitying himself.

Thankfully, the organic with the rocket launcher spared him the sparkache of deciding who was guilty. He fired the rocket launcher despite his commander's choked noise.

Ultra Magnus pulled his rifle's trigger before the shot hit him. He witnessed the commander's mushy insides smear the ground, his own flesh burned to a crisp. Then, the energy pulse hit him in the abdominal area and he roared with fury.

A nanoclick later, the rocket launcher was nothing more than an unrecognisable smear on the rockface. Like all his other comrades. Ultra Magnus straightened himself and reckoned a job well done. After all, the humans had fired first.

Turning to the World Wide Web for an alt. mode was not the best option but it was his only one. The human's trucks were too small for him to take on without subspacing too much and he'd landed in a place so remote he was sure no forms suitable for him would be passing by anytime soon.

Finding a 3D image site, Ultra Magnus found a form that would do and scanned it, doing his best to keep the dimensions proper. He needed to lay low now, recover and search for any Transformers not already taken down by this Cemetery Wind.

Transforming, he rolled out.


	2. A Chilly Winter Night

Rodimus had never really been a people person. Sure, he'd interacted with those at church when his parents had dragged him and his brothers there; he'd pranced about in those frilly dresses, smiling like he was happy, weary of his Father's stern eyes always watching.

He could talk, yeah. Uphold a conversation, of course. It was the approaching the people bit that was hard, especially with strangers. Rodimus didn't know strangers and strangers didn't know him. He seen their cold eyes, their clean faces, washed clothes and he became nervous and twitchy. The strangers seen a dirty, washed-up kid living on the streets and clutched their purse and children closer.

Maybe it was the fact that interacting with strangers required you to have a certain degree of trust, a level of security set in place saying they wouldn't stab you with your back turned and raid you for whatever cash was in your pockets. Rodimus wasn't sure what it was, either that or his shyness, but he hadn't put much thought to what instinct drove him away from unknowns.

Although, it was probably telling which one it was when he'd sooner take to Portland's estranged farmer fields to find an old building to sleep off the winter nights in than approach a stranger-infested hostel. Not that he'd have the money to invest in a creaky, spring-ridden matress, but still.

He found the building in a field, when the snow was just setting in. It was getting chilly up in Portland and Rodimus was running out of options. It was either dig into his pockets for a hostel --which he could only afford two nights in without eating-- or sleep out on the streets. Unfortunately his usual alleyway, and streetside curb, were closed off for construction work (something about water pipes) and would be for the coming months with the construction crews halted for Christmas.

Which left him without somewhere trusted to stay. (_Again, _whispered a voice.)

He'd stumbled across the gate, crushed in half on one side. At the sight, Rodimus paused, snow falling on his nose where his hood couldn't cover. Interested, he decided to investigate.

Shivering, Rodimus peered into the field. There was a large warehouse in the far corner, hidden by overgrown bushes. It would be a good place to hole up amongst the old farming machinery and whatnot. There might even be some wood inside for a fire. Rodimus liked fires, they were warm.

Easing past the gate, he was sure to not make too much noise -- although the thing squeaked horribly at the slightest touch. Luckily (or not?) he was as small as the day he'd been pushed from home, if smaller after years on his own.

The grass underfoot sunk at pressure of a human treading over it and by the time Rodimus was halfway across the once farmed field, he was up to his shins in mud. _This is worth it,_ he thought. Anything was worth it for somewhere not so exposed to the elements. A couple months at the most was what he needed, a month in the least. He'd made warehouses with half their roof caved in work for him many a time.

Up close the building looked like less of a warehouse and more of a barn, but that was okay. Anything with four, or three, walls and a stable roof could work. This was it, finally --after a near week of searching-- he'd found somewhere he could bunk. Somewhere to stay out of the terrible snow storms that howled in his ears, somewhere to curl up in a ball in a corner and nuzzle into his blankets without having to worry about waking up with pnemonia rattling his breaths like that old man he'd seen. Excitement built as he pulled himself from the slushy grass, legs dripping in mud. Rodimus pulled open the door and blinked at the sight that greeted him.

There was no farming machinery. There was no empty spacious barn floor to be seen. No dust. Nothing but jagged shards standing in silence, ready to silencr him if he made a wrong move.

The second floor was caved in. Entirely.

He stared at the second floor of the barn which had become the barn's only floor. It stared back at him from its ragged, splintered mess. Rodimus squeezed his hands into fists, backpack radiating warmth against his back, under his waterproofs. Dread filled him and as much as he wanted to tell himself he hadn't dredged through all that grass and mud and snow for nothing, he had.

Rodimus let out a ragged, sad breath. The snow picked up, slapping against his back hard enough for him to feel it past his three layers and plastic bag wrapped backpack. A storm was setting in, wind screaming loud enough to rattle the soot greyed barn windows.

This was pointless. He couldn't enter the building, as much as he wanted out of the cold bitter snow. Rodimus liked all bits of his self in one piece.

Backtracking, he found the open winds of the storm too strong. If he stood out in the open for too long he was sure he'd topple like a stick, despite the sticky mud that dragged him further down into the earth. Shivering despite his layers, Rodimus edged back and clung to the barn's walls. He had to get out of here, preferrably to somewhere that could actually protect him. Going out on the roads was too dangerous right now, too much risk of the speeding drivers who drive around here not being able to see him in all this white hellishness.

Casting his gaze around, Rodimus made out the faint outline of a tree with a bigger blob beside it. Whatever it was was blue enough (and big enough) to be visible in this near whiteout. Curious and a little desperate (let's face it, _very _desperate), Rodimus stumbled his way over to the tree and its friend.

The friend turned out to be a truck. A huge, long truck that looked like it had drived into a block of New York's best 'scrapers and had not came out unscathed. Its paint was chipping like hell, the silver underneath dulled to a near grey. Its grill was twisted and warped, mud smushed up the sides of the cab. It reminded Rodimus a bit of those military ramming trucks that one of his brother's had liked to watch on that tv series, it was certainly grizzly enough for the part. With the faintest bit of hope, Rodimus climbed up the steep steps and gently tugged on the doorhandle.

With a click, the door swung open, batting him to the ground with the sudden force. Rodimus, knowing enough to keep his head up when he slammed onto the ground, coughed sourly and teetered on unsteady legs. Snow swarmed around the sudden blackhole that hadn't been there before, painting the ripped leather seats a stark white.

Rodimus, clutching onto the door now, slowly hauled himself into the truck, limbs quivering against the cold. It took a few tugs to close the stiff door but it closed nonetheless. Once the door was closed Rodimus sat there, frozen in the tense silence. He could barely hear the wind, the seals of the windows still in place and seamingly better than any other vehicles'.

"Wow," he murmured, quaking fingers brushing dust from the steering wheel. He'd hoped into the passenger side but that didn't matter. From the looks of this truck nothing short of a miracle was going to get it started again. Despite the bad state it was in on the outside, everything seemed okay inside. There was no breeze, meaning no interior cracking, and although there was enough dust to choke a cockroach nothing seemed terribly broken.

Rodimus leaned over the arm rest, intent on looking out the window --damn drivers seat was too far forward-- but was stopped by the gearshaft jabbing into his ribs. Shooting upright at the bolt of unexpected pain, more than a little embarrassed at leaning into it like a blind man, Rodimus shot the stick a look and noticed a red face sitting proudly in the middle of the steering wheel.

He was sure he'd seen it somewhere before.

Suddenly self-conscious that a ruined truck looked better internally than he did externally, Rodimus gave himself a once over. His waterproofs had begun digging into him months ago, screaming at the seams they were too small --they _were _a children's age 13-- and they looked it, cramping over his chest where those _things _were. His waterproof trousers had been pulled over a pair of leggings and he became glad he'd chosen the longer pair of trousers as he found, miraculously, his leggings were untouched by the mud.

With great effort, using the mininal leg space there was in the passenger side, Rodimus managed to get his waterproofs off and chucked them in the corner of the door. Of course, he turned them inside out first, not wanting to get more mud over the truck seat than he already had. If the snow died down a bit tomorrow he could possibly set up a makeshift washing line and dry them out but that was a no-no tonight. Not with the wind howling like wolves.

Unfortunately, with the removal of his waterproofs (which were surprisingly good at containing his body heat) Rodimus began shivering with the cold. The leather he sat on was searing him to the bone, colder than his Father's glare when—

His socks were wet. They clung horribly when Rodimus bent over to pull them off, scuffed trainers soaked through. Everything was caked in mud, even the plastic bags he'd put over his socks to protect them from water should his shoes get wet. The bags hadn't been too good, apparently.

Balling his socks up in a wet ball, he dropped them on top of his wp trousers and unzipped his coat. Instantly the cold attacked him and Rodimus reiterated why he hated the cold. He managed to get his coat over the back of the passenger chair to dry out while rummaging through his too small backpack at the same time.

Pulling out his blanket and (stolen) inflatable pillow that was the size of his fist, Rodimus eased his fully zipped-up backpack into the space behind the passenger and driver chairs. It wasn't that big, maybe ten inches, but it was big enough for his pack and possibly for that makeshift washingline.

Rodimus frowned and dismissed that thought. Silly as it was to leave his clothes and only pair of shoes soaked by the door, he didn't want to have a puddle of mud gather behind him to rush forward and soak his feet anytime he moved. And the truck was so clean already he really didn't want to mess up his living accomodations for the foreseeable winter.

When he finally lay down it was to an arm rest poking him in the side. Rodimus shifted, body curled close --the seat was _huge, _he could fit in it like this perfectly, with space to spare-- and set his little pillow on the arm rest. Feeling the cold nibble at his feet, he readjusted his, four by four foot, red blanket to cover his feet as well.

Curled up in the sturdy truck, Rodimus fell asleep.

He woke up to a loud crash. Jolting upright and nearly hitting his head off the dash as his blanket held him back, Rodimus fought with his blanket while squinting out the snowy windowscreen. Everything was hard to make out in the (what he assumed was) early morning snow. Shifting to lean further forward, he caught sight of what had woken him.

The tree beside the truck had fallen. Most likely from the wind, the huge tree had toppled not a foot away from the front grill.

Heart hammering, Rodimus rocked back, wilting against the warmed leather of the chair. With a groan he pulled numb fingers up to massage his temple. He was tired, excessively so and being jolted from sleep had done him no favours. In his own defense, it wasn't like he could've just hunkered down for the night with no shelter -- the instinct for peace and warmth had driven him for most of his week, nagging him onwards when he stsrted slowing down. It just wasn't plausible, in his head, to stop and lie in a bush while he could be looking for somewhere to rest more comfortably.

Closing his eyes against the pounding of his eyelids, Rodimus slid down the chair and took up his position of 'curled cat' once more. He shifted, finding warmth in a position that would leave his back aching later. Not caring and devastatingly tired, Rodimus hugged his legs to his chest --ignoring the certain plushness there that threatened to suffocate him-- and eased back into sleep.

When he woke again it was to a cloudless night with a moon the size of a ball peering down at him through the windscreen. Rodimus, legs tangled with the gearstick, blanket draped over his legs and his legs only, opened his eyes and let himself lie for a second longer.

His tee-shirt stuck to him, sweaty after being clammed up in his waterproofs and him sleeping in it. It made him uncomfortable, despite the warmth that surrounded him --which was only being sucked away by the sweat, he knew-- so he sat up.

The world spun a little at first and he sagged back against the chair like a boneless man, eyes squeezing shut at the light of the moon. It shone down on the truck, making the dash sparkle like glitter was infused with it.

Man or woman, Rodimus liked glitter and he smiled happily at it before he could stop himself. Not that anyone was watching but still, self-preservation was a thing nowadays.

Sitting up and righting his body, so that his sockless feet traced lines in the dust of the floor, Rodimus got to work on getting his sweat-moistened layers off of himself. With his lightweight polyester shirt finally off, he checked his binder. It was getting a little tight and he probably shouldn't have slept in it. Thankfully, bunking in a truck in the middle of nowhere was nothing like sleeping in an alleyway and it meant he could take it off without prying eyes.

As much as Rodimus hated this side of him, he knew not to over do it. Letting his breasts free he folded his binder loosely and set it on a dust-free section of the dash. Turning around to pull his pack onto his lap, his stomach growled loudly.

Blinking, he pulled free a granola bar and checked his reserves. Three bottles of water left and four granola bars, two chocolate bars --only for the _emergencies _that came with the need for pads-- and one tin of what was possibly peaches. He'd need to top up soon but for now he settled on gently breaking up the granola bar into quarters.

Slipping a quarter into his mouth, he realised he hadn't needed to piss in a little while too long. That wasn't good, he knew, because that meant he was dehydrated and that the headaches would be coming soon. Who knew, maybe that one last time he woke hadn't just been from lack of sleep.

Resigning himself to opening a new bottle he took a few small sips of water before setting it in the truck's drink holder that sat beside the gearstick. Pulling out his favourite threadbare shirt --which was literally falling apart, he'd need to see if he could steal some thread or something. Rodimus marvelled at its age for a moment before slipping it on, feeling the cotton rub at his unclean body.

God what he'd give for a shower.

Rodimus sighed, checking what else he had in his meager possession. Not much; aside from his food, one last pack of unopened pads, two more pairs of socks, a freshly stolen pack of boxers, a few pairs of womens pants, a rolled up scrumple that was grey leggings and a blue cap. In the backpack's frontmost pocket was a thin rainbow sweater that he doubted would survive the winter and a pair of pumps that were small enough to fit. He also had what he liked to call a 'urination device' in its own pack-away pouch but he didn't talk about that much, it went with his toiletries -- basically only a toothbrush and some paste at this point.

Everything else was scattered around the truck. His blue coat was still hung over his chair, his waterproofs were now a dried puddle of mud, his socks on top and his binder and polyester tee were on the dash and driver's seat, respectively.

Maybe if he could scrounge up some plastic or metal container then he could gather the snow and boil it, somehow. That would mean he wouldn't have to worry about water, like when he was in the alleyway and could boil water with that old metal box and the local tinfire. He would then sell some of the water to ones and be able to buy the necessities like pads and food.

Rodimus missed his alleyway. Dark and dirty as it was, it was familiar and it provided. This metal truck didn't really provide anything but shelter. Not that he wasn't extremely grateful --and lucky-- to be here right now but sometimes a guy needed to want a little more, if only to have goals to achieve.

Plopping the second quarter of the granola bar into his mouth Rodimus sucked on it slowly. If he rationed right he could make it ten days, eight with the granola bars, skip a day somewhere, the peaches would last for two, or three and... that was eleven days. Of course, unless he did some gathering, the water would only last six, or if he pushed it, twelve days. That was, a half a day down to a quarter a day.

There; safely ten days on food and six on water because Rodimus was not a fan of headaches, thank you very much.

He looked up from his bag and the moon caught his eye. While he was surprised the snow hadn't stayed as it usually did, Rodimus supposed he didn't mind much. Slipping the tan pumps out of the front compartment, Rodimus made sure his bag was secure --after putting everything that would go inside it back inside-- and set it back behind the seat.

The door was easier to open from the inside, he found, although the four steps down were steep and awkward. Bouncing on the damp grass that was sturdier than the section he'd trudged through, Rodimus took a deep breath of fresh air.

Smiling, he skipped around the felled tree, looking at it before walking along it as if it was a balancing beam like the one his old high school had once had. Rodimus was never one for nature or geography and didn't know what kind of tree he was prancing about on but he wasn't blind --at least, not for things further away than his general waist line (he legitimately could not see past there, everything just got _too close_). The tree was thick and tall, the leaves sprouting at the top like a messy mop of colour not yet dead. The large roots had unearthed a great section of the grassland when the great big stick had toppled. It made for an interesting sight.

Worms wiggled, bare to the fresh air for what Rodimus knew could be their first time ever. He crouched down to stare at them and poke at one that was making its way along the width of the downed tree. What was really interesting though was the roots, just seeing how they fanned out was different enough to be entertaining. Seeing how wide they went it was surprising the paint hadn't been scratched off the truck by a stray root at all. Rodimus took himself for lucky that the truck hadn't gotten caught on the roots when they'd appeared and tipped on its side or something.

A soft breeze blew, ruffling his hair. He needed it washed again, it was already hanging like rat's tails in front of his eyes. Rodimus didn't like his hair long but he had no way of cutting it without possibly cutting his head off and the small pocket knife in his coat pocket was too pathetic to even cut through hair, being more of a stabby-stab weapon than a cutty-cut. If that made sense.

He settled on the tree, legs crossed so that his pumps hung off his feet. Tapping them back on, Rodimus turned his gaze to the sky. It was cloudless and Rodimus could see the darkness of space staring down on him. The stars out here were nice, nothing more than small pinpricks in the vast pseudo-ocean that space was; it made sense, they hadn't discovered ninety percent of what was in the oceans and that was the same for space exploration. Whistling softly, Rodimus looked back at the truck that was lit up in the moon's light.

It was red and blue but more blue than anything. It was huge, front grill armoured and tall enough (with spikes on it) to tear a human apart at a sufficient speed. The truck was definitely some sort of military prototype or something, having a long body no doubt meant for mounted weapons. Idly, Rodimus wondered if there was a working radio in it. He hadn't heard music in forever, hadn't seen the news in even longer.

Behind him something shifted. Curious, Rodimus turned around and came face to face with a metal cat leering at him, eyes the colour of his blood, teeth as long as his fingers and as sharp as razors. It growled gutrally at him, slinking low to pounce on him.

Rodimus screamed.


	3. A Slightly Warmer Winter Night

A loud scream roused Ultra Magnus from stasis.

Sensors shooting out to map his surroundings, Ultra Magnus silently vented. There was a fallen tree a bit too close to his grill for his liking but it wasn't that which was concerning.

The human that had slept in him the entirety of yesterday's orn was sitting on the tree, optics wide and heartrate spiked as he stared down none other than Ravage.

"W-what?" He heard the human stutter. The human edged back along the trunk but Ravage leaned forward and opened her mouth in a warning growl. "Who are you?"

The human had taken on a high pitch that thrummed in Ultra Magnus' audios. Ravage let loose a gowl and flexed her claws menacingly.

"Stand down, Ravage. The organic means you no harm." Ultra Magnus powered up his --by human standards-- military grade headlights. The human's blood pressure skyrocketed as their head twisted like it was on a pole, staring at him with wide squishy optics, the stark white of his LEDs casting the entire field into a glow like that of a sun. For a moment, Ultra Magnus wondered if the human race could explode when stressed but he chose not to dwell on that.

Instead, he rolled forward on his sixteen wheel drive and blared his horn. The human's face scrunched and his hands shot to cover his ears as Ravage yowled and pounced. She dug her claws into his bonnet, gouging lines down his plating. With a shout, Ultra Magnus transformed, flinging Ravage up into the air and stood to grab the cassette mid-air.

The human's vitals wavered as he scurried off the tree just in time for Ultra Magnus to slam the Decepticon into the centre of the trunk. Ravage hissed as the wood visibly splintered into her seams, no doubt tugging at important circuits.

"How did you find me?" He demanded, shoulder cannons clicking to life. Ravage struggled, dagger-tipped tail lashing around wildly to stab him in his injured knee. Ultra Magnus grabbed her tail and yanked, watching the Decepticon halt all movement at the threat of a lost tail. "Tell me."

"Found your energon trail," the panther hissed. "Tracked you here, Maggy."

"That is not my name," Ultra Magnus tightened his constricting fist, coming close to crushing Ravage's internal components. "Where is Soundwave? Megatron?"

"Dad's off doing what he does, you know the way. Megs-a-lot is offlined." The human shifted closer and Ravage's head snapped around to stare him down. Commendably, the human did not falter, standing there in silence and returning Ravage's cold stare with a hint of confusion.

_"Why do the organics hunt us?" _He questioned in general Cybertronian; a dialect that all Transformers knew, nothing like their own faction-altered dialects. His plating flared, demanding answers. The cassette spared his stacks a cautious glance then answered.

_"They fear us," _Ravage hacked up a laugh, cold and terrorless. _"Sentinel Prime was recovered from his crash site an Earth year ago, your Autobots took him in. When he betrayed them and went on to fail in rematerializing this dirt bucket, the humans worried the Autobots would turn against them too."_

Shocked that Sentinel Prime had betrayed them with the Pillars, Ultra Magnus listened.

_"They formed teams to hunt us all. Many of our numbers have fallen to become nothing more than scrap in the human labs."_ Ravage radiated the disgust Ultra Magnus felt. The cassette shivered. _"There are rumours of the humans' Cemetery Wind, our hunters, partnering with Lockdown."_

_Surely not, _Ultra Magnus worried. _"Do they not know he will backstab them? Lockdown is a lone mercenary for a reason."_

_"__They are humans," _Ravage managed a shrug. _"Organics were always known to be weak."_

Ultra Magnus eased up on his grip, coming to a conclusion. Sentinel had betrayed them and the humans had taken it out on them, breaking their alliances over fear of the unknown. He should've known. Venting a sigh, Ultra Magnus nodded to the cassette. _"Tell no one of this and I'll let you live."_

A moment passed in silence, Ravage sizing him up. If this was true --and he knew it was, his own evidence saying it all-- and the humans were killing them, then it was pointless to kill their own kind without reasoning. Decepticon or not, Ravage was still only a few million years old; a teenager by their standards.

Ultra Magnus may have killed the humans without remorse but there was seven billion of them; there was not seven billion Transformers left.

Ravage nodded and Ultra Magnus released her. _"I would not expect fights with the 'Cons, Ultra Magnus." _She said. _"Rather, it is the organics we all need to worry about."_

_"Go," _he motioned her away, seeing the human mech waver on his feet as Ravage prowled towards the old barn. The human watched her turn, tail snapping from side to side leisurely. _"Before I have to throw you out."_

_"The organic will get you offlined," _was her leaving message.

Ultra Magnus stood for a few clicks longer, sensor nets spread far and wide for spark signatures. True to her word, Ravage was leaving. And there didn't seem to be any other sparks within a fifty mile radius. The organic mech shifted then took a wary step forward.

"When were you gonna say you were alive?" He asked, squishy optics wide. They shone a bright blue in the floodlights that were his LED headlights. "Or were you gonna let me get mud all over you first, before kicking me out?"

Ultra Magnus looked down at the human, noting the distinct mix of the race's gendered clothing. Thinking nothing of it (and not caring) he transformed back into his scuffed up armoured military vehicle. Mentally shifting through his cargo bay, he assured himself that the rocket launchers, machine guns and mounted cannons were in place should he need to use them. It would not be hard to kill a few ordinary humans, he knew, he only worried they had more of those energy discharging rocket launchers.

The human picked his way towards him, tapping on the door this time rather than tugging it. For some reason, Ultra Magnus opened his door --memories rushing him of how the human had winced hitting the ground when he'd flung his door out the first time-- and let him climb in.

Pulling his pumps off, the human set his shoes atop the dried pile of waterproofs and let his head drop against the head rest. "So, my name's Rodimus. You?"

"My designation is Ultra Magnus," Ultra Magnus said, relaxing his sensors a tad. He needed recharge so he was able to fully heal his wounds. Thankfully Ravage hadn't noticed them (her tail lashing out had been simple self-defense) or she merely hadn't seen them fit of mentioning. Having a human in his cab was odd but it was somehow reassuring. It let Ultra Magnus feel safe to recharge, knowing there was a lookout.

At least, that had to be the reason why he had prevailed the interaction with the human. He had no other reasons to keep him around.

"So, Maggy," the human started just as he was falling into recharge. "Is this what you do all day?"

"No," he said and would have been frowning were he in root mode. "I recently landed on this planet."

"How recent is 'recently'?"

"A few orns ago," he answered.

"'Orns'? What's that in our time?" The human pulled his legs up onto the seat, curling the blanket around himself. It was noticeably too small but Ultra Magnus kept his lip-plates shut.

"An orn is a Cybertronian day, roughly equivalent to fifty-six hours on 196 Terra." Ultra Magnus explained, feeling the human shift to lean against the arm rest closest to the door. It didn't seem to be a sign of fear, and his vitals were levelling out again, but Ultra Magnus kept his sensors on the human anyway. He doubted Rodimus would survive a night out in the cold he had been shielding him from. "196 Terra is our name for your planet."

"Cool," the mech hummed, stretching out his legs like a feline. "So you've been here maybe six days. Any reason why you hunkered down here?"

"I could ask the same of you, Rodimus." The human seemed startled at the use of his designation.

"You first, Maggy."

"That is not my name," he clarified. "I landed on this planet three orns ago, after receiving word from Optimus Prime, the Autobot Leader, that all was well and our kind were being welcomed."

Rodimus tilted his head. "The Autobots are the guys who fought for us in Chicago, right?"

"I am not sure," Ultra Magnus stated. "Chicago?"

The human looked surprised he didn't know. "Oh, well, um. A few months, maybe half a year, Decepticons --the bad guys?-- attacked and tried to kill everyone. They killed thousands but the Autobots came back and saved the survivors. This your 'Autobots'?"

"Sounds like it. Who were the main 'bots?"

"There was a lot of them. I think there was a yellow dude, black stripes;" Bumblebee. "A red dude with big swords in his hands," Sideswipe. "Some tall guy that turned into a semi, blue and red flame decals." Optimus Prime. "And some other guys?" Rodimus shrugged helplessly. "Sorry, I don't really know. I don't see much of the news and I was already—"

Rodimus fell silent, picking at his blanket. Ultra Magnus didn't push, seeing the human's discomfort. He continued his story, "Upon landing, I was attacked by a human anti-Transformer group."

The human looked up suddenly. Ultra Magnus paused in preparation for the question.

"What's a 'Transformer'?" It was like talking to a sparkling.

"My kind, we can change our forms with the aid of a device called a T-Cog, so we are called Transformers. The Autobots and Decepticons originate from the planet Cybertron, so we are also Cybertronians."

"So Transformers is a term of what you are, like we're humans," Rodimus mused. "And Cybertronians is, like, your ethnicity?"

"In a way, yes." Ultra Magnus agreed. "Would you like me to continue?"

"Oh," Rodimus blinked. "Yes, sorry."

"As I was saying, as soon as I landed --somewhere in the mountains-- I was confronted by a human anti-Transformer group called Cemetery Wind. They threatened and fired upon me so I took due course and, after dealing with them, decided to find somewhere to lay low and recover."

"Where were you hurt?"

"I took an energy rocket blast to the abdominal area, one to the knee and one to my back struts. I am healing, although much slower without energon. Energon is what we refuel with."

"So energon's your food." Rodimus noted. "What's it like?"

"It is harvested in crystals first, then processed with machinery to a liquid. There are three forms: high grade, which is a dark blue and is essentially our version of what your kind call alcohol; normal energon, which is a light blue and is our everyday supplement and dark energon. Dark energon is mainly a thing of myths although it is real, it's a dark purple, occasionally black and very rare. It corrupts anything that comes into contact with it, raising the offlined as walking incarnates of mindlessness."

"So high grade is liquor, energon is normal food and dark energon is zombie stuff. Great."

"'Zombie stuff'?" Ultra Magnus echoed.

"Yeah, y'know, the walking dead?" Rodimus smiled at his steering wheel, no doubt addressing his red Autobot insignia. Ultra Magnus supposed he couldn't fault him, he hadn't exactly given the human anything to go by. With his silence, Rodimus jumped to a conclusion. "You really don't know? Woah, I'm gonna have to steal some movies next time I do a shopping run. You _could _play the movies, right?"

"I suppose so, I have disk reading capabilities." Ultra Magnus said. "We can project images through our optics, or through small sensors above our headlights."

"Does that mean you can create an illusion of yourself to blend in and pretend you have a driver?"

"Indeed, not that it is necessary. You are more than capable."

"What?" Rodimus shifted, alarmed. "What do you mean?"

Ultra Magnus paused. "I was under the impression you were staying for the ride. Of course, if you do not wish to—"

"I didn't know you wanted me to stay," Rodimus grinned, joking in the quiet. "Moving a bit fast, aren't we?"

He was unsure of how to respond so he didn't. Apparently that was the wrong course of action to take, as Rodimus frowned in worry, sitting up. His feet fluttered over his floorboards, green socks licking at the dust that had gathered in such a short time.

"Maggy?" He asked, reaching out to touch his dash. "Are you okay?"

Ultra Magnus activated his holoform. They were scientifically named a 'holographic, three dimensional, solid projected formation' by Perceptor, who'd taken it upon himself to upgrade it so it matched the psyche of its wearer to make it as authentic as possible, broadcasting an image similar to what its owner would look like in the different form. It was changeable, yes, but unless the wearer sent a communique to the device with a specific holo in mind, it fired up the usual one.

Rodimus jumped as Ultra Magnus' holo appeared in the drivers seat. The human blinked at him, taking in his red collar shirt, blue trench coat with the Autobot insignia proudly sewn into the left breast and his black army boots. Rodimus whistled, pulling a green sock up to poke his black slacks. There was armour subtly infused throughout his attire, his trousers carrying most of it, as well as having a metal holo chip for the button which summoned a rifle upon contact.

"Am I dreaming?" Rodimus asked, fleshy optics comically wide. His socked toe poked Ultra Magnus' leg again, assuring himself that Ultra Magnus was indeed solid. "This is so cool. How'd you do that?"

"This is my holoform, a solid 3D projection. It allows me to utilize my holographic projectors to blend in with your population when driving." Although he hadn't yet had a need for it, seeing as there was little to none traffic around here. Plus, his windows were tinted black. "I activate it through a program one of our best scientists made, eons ago. Recently, a scientist upgraded it so that they're able to take on a form more... specific to our psyche."

"This is what you'd look like if human? Nice." The last word was a near whisper as Rodimus shuffled to the edge of the passenger seat to get a better look. His hands reached out but stopped halfway to his face. "Uh, can I..?"

"Sure," Ultra Magnus let Rodimus touch him, using the human's warm hands to gauge what temperature his holo should be emitting. Rodimus moved his head around a bit, inspecting his hair to see if it was the same royal blue at the roots as it was for the rest. A few minutes later, seemingly satisfied, Rodimus leaned back, sliding back into the slope of the passenger seat. The only difference from his earlier position was that he chose to lean on the armrest closest to Ultra Magnus' holoform.

"So, handsome, what we gonna do now?"

Ultra Magnus had no need to turn around his head to see Rodimus, his sensors telling him everything that happened in his cab, but he did anyway. Rodimus looked comfortable, curled up in his red blanket, slowly breathing air into his tiny inflatable pillow.

"We'll head out in the morning, sharp oh-six-hundred." He'd be good to go as long as he got a few hours of recharge tonight. He had enough energon to last him a month, but he wasn't sure about Rodimus and his food storages. Something pinged in his memory cortex. "You didn't tell me how you got out here."

"Didn't did I?" Rodimus shifted, placing the pillow on the large passenger seat. His head followed it, blanket pulled high along his shoulders. "Well, I was looking for somewhere to spend the winter, honestly."

Ultra Magnus leaned back in his driver seat, feeling odd. "Do you not have an apartment complex or as such?" That was all they had back on Cybertron, apartment complex after apartment complex. Only the ones with quite a few credits to spare could afford the lavish mansions that were too far out of the normal 'bots budgets.

Rodimus chuckled into his blanket but it cut off sharply. "Nah, Maggy. I'm homeless."

"Do you not have family?" Ultra Magnus wasn't sure what he'd been expecting but this, to hear Rodimus was without constant shelter, was saddening.

Rodimus barked a humourless laugh. "Who? Those transphobic assholes? Yeah, got plenty. All of them 'god abiding lawful Christians'. They turn my stomach."

"You are trans?" Ultra Magnus scoured the World Wide Web for the definition of that word. It presented the word 'transgender' in which he received the meaning 'a person whose sense of personal identity does not correspond with the gender they were assigned at birth'. "I see. They did not like this?"

"Christians," Rodimus shrugged stiltedly. "Don't like what _god almighty _doesn't preach, the stuck ups."

Ultra Magnus looked at Rodimus, seeing long fiery red hair that bordered on becoming a slight pink, somehow. He recalled the green socks, the black leggings and pink cotton shirt that suited him so well. It made his hands clench around his slacks with an emotion akin to anger; anger for those who had done nothing. Anger and frustration boiled underneath his plating at those who had let this mech live on the dirty, cold streets, unsure of what to do or where to go next.

It wad a good thing Rodimus had not disclosed his family's names. Ultra Magnus wasn't entirely sure he could let them continue unhindered if he knew.

"You should be proud of yourself, Rodimus. You are who you are, no one can change that."

Rodimus looked up at him, plush pink lips being worried over by white denta -- humans called them teeth. His blue optics shone in the horizon's approaching sun. For a moment, his organic optics gleamed with such brightness that Ultra Magnus could've mistaken him for a holoform but Rodimus was human.

"That's cute," the human murmured, shooting the sky a look. "Do you have a radio in here?"

"Yes," he turned it on, volume down low. Rodimus stared at the glowing spot on the dash and nodded, curling back into his blanket as Ultra Magnus settled on a classical station.

A few clicks later, Rodimus was asleep. Ultra Magnus shut off his holoform and followed the mech's example, slipping into recharge.

The sun was high in the sky by the time they'd set off, not that Rodimus was complaining. He'd woken up before Maggy and had ventured out, cleaning himself up with some water and making good use of his toothbrush. By the time Ultra Magnus had woken from what he called 'recharge', Rodimus had grown bored with sitting in his cab or on the tree and was sunbathing on his trunk.

Now they were on the road, unfamiliar features whizzing by the window as Maggy tested how far he could push the speedometer needle before it broke.

"This device is not the best," Mags huffed, the annoyance clear in his robot voice that seemed to echo from all around the cab. Rodimus smirked into his palm, chin digging into his wrist as he stared out the window. "I'm going at 63 miles per hour yet it only shows me going at 62.5."

"That's terrible," Rodimus shook his head in good nature. Agreeing with Maggy on things like this, as he'd found out an hour before (it included a squirrel and a very old tractor that looked like it was falling apart), made the conversation more entertaining to take part in.

"Indeed it is," Maggy responded eagerly. "I could be speeding and not know it! That point-five of a mark could be my undoing."

"At least you're not a full mark off," he mused, watching the scenery change from fields and winter stricken bushes to a deserted highway. "Hey, can we stop at a gas station? I want some chocolate."

He'd kill for a hot chocolate but that meant human interaction and Rodimus didn't feel quite up for that. Already he'd ended up on some roadtrip with an alien visitor for however long the Autobot kept him around for. He wasn't feeling up to smiling at a stranger today.

"Chocolate?" Maggy wondered.

"It's a treat food. Us humans have a wide variety of things to eat, chocolate being more of a delicacy than a meal item."

"We have energon goodies," Maggy rumbled, voice nostalgic. "They are... pleasing."

Rodimus laughed, "Yeah chocolate's pleasing too. It tastes great, as long as you get the good stuff."

"The good stuff?"

If Rodimus launched into a full-fledged speech about chocolate and all its flavours and consistencies and if Maggy found it irritating he didn't say. Although, the 'bot did occasionally give his input, adding bits here and there, and that made Rodimus happier than he thought it would've.

A few hours into the drive they pulled up at a fairly large station. There was a Target acting as a leech to the main gas station store. Rodimus hesitated in leaving the cab, heart rate picking up in distress. He really didn't want to go in there because he had no money which meant stealing stuff but in quiet places like this everyone had hawk eyes. He really didn't like going into these sorts of places to begin with.

"Would you like me to join you?" Holo Maggy asked, a pleasant smile on his pretty face. "I've never been in one of these 'gas stations' before."

"Didn't think you would've." Rodimus smiled, jumping out of the armoured vehicle. Maggy had told him exactly what type it was but he couldn't remember and 'armoured vehicle' had made the strict "this is _exactly _what my alt. is" cut so it would do. "C'mon, I hope they have lots of chocolate."

And tampons, he hoped they had tampons. Pads were so finicky.

The cool midday breeze fluttered under the canopy that most gas stations had, licking at his freshly cleaned polyester tee. If he was lucky this station's Target would have those weird tops and he could get a few -- he really needed shirts.

Maggy caught up with him after putting some diesel into his engine because "there is traces of energon in this. If I try it I may be able to save some of my rations". And well, Rodimus couldn't argue with that.

The Target store was bigger inside than it looked outside. Rodimus immediately set off for the chocolate aisle, Maggy following him like a lost puppy. His eyes were wide as he took in the store, fingers tapping anything he could find to "catalogue them in my industry textile log."

"You humans have an awful lot of necessities," Maggy said as Rodimus forced him to hold his chocolate --they had dark chocolate!-- while he picked out enough tampons to last him a few months.

"Yeah," Rodimus nodded along, shameless as he made Magnus hold the tampons too. To his credit, the 'bot didn't even spare the plastic bags a second glance, pulling them into his steadily gathering pile.

Noticing clothing racks at the far end of the store, Rodimus headed that way, aware of the cashiers eyes following them both. "Can you do that holo thing with money too?"

"I suppose so," Maggy hummed, looking intently at something on the other aisle that Rodimus couldn't see. Damn tall Cybertronian being able to see over the aisles. "Seeing as I'm buying, get anything you want."

Rodimus stopped dead in the middle of the aisle. He turned around, well aware of how stupid he probably looked wearing this three year old shirt, hair scruffy, bags under his eyes. "What?"

"This will not hinder me in the slightest, the holo-money will cover all expenses." Maggy assured him. He looked down at Rodimus, his six foot four frame towering over Roddy's five foot six. "Go on, pick anything. I shall find a basket for all this."

Maggy did as promised and turned around to find a basket. Grabbing a few cans of deodorant, he skirted along the aisle, looking for what Maggy had been staring at. There was a cotton tee with some blonde woman on it, smiling gleefully. In big italics beside her, she was exclaiming something a bit too blurry for Rodimus to make out.

Lumbering footsteps behind him signalled Maggy's return. Tee in hand, Rodimus spun around. "Likey?"

Whatever was on the shirt made Maggy snort so Rodimus dumped it into the basket anyway, dropping in the deodorant. He grabbed what looked like a polkadot cotton tee and shoved it into the basket too. There was a few of those expensive protein bars that came in different flavours that Rodimus had always wanted so he grabbed a large handful and dumped them into the basket. Turning to look for a very quiet Maggy, Rodimus walked right into his chest, rebounding like he'd hit a brick wall.

"Fuck," he wheezed, clutching his poor arm which had taken the brunt of the impact. "Warn a guy first."

"Are you alright?" Maggy asked, tone laced with worry. His eyes shone with something that Rodimus couldn't make out because he was standing too damn close.

"Can't see shit," he explained. "Joys of being farsighted."

"You don't have glasses?"

"Glasses? Who's that?" Rodimus joked, feeling a little unsteady. Grabbing onto Maggy's muscular arm for support, and ignoring the 'bots glance, he peered at the rack Maggy'd been staring at. "What's caught your eye, Maggy?"

"That's not my name," Maggy gave a weak protest before slipping the item he'd been looking at from its hanger. Rodimus stared at it, cursing his ability to be able to see it. "I couldn't help but notice you are without adequate support for your chestplates, these are meant to be good."

And he stared, not even correcting the Cybertronians mix up.

"Rodimus?" Maggy queried.

Magnus had picked up what Rodimus could make out to be a soft blue bra with little pink blobs on it. They were some sort of design but they were too small for him to make out.

"What's the pink thingies?"

"Bunnies, I believe. These should fit you, though this is a rough estimate."

Rodimus spared the size tag a glance, looking back up into hopeful eyes that gleamed an inhumane blue. "I don't know," he confessed. "I haven't had a bra in years."

"I could scan you, if you'd like? It would give us your measurements to be sure we don't buy the wrong one." Magnus looked down, like a kicked puppy expecting another kick.

Rodimus wanted to hug the puppy. "Go ahead," he'd already taken his shirt off in the cab --albeit when he'd been unaware of Maggy's sentience-- so he didn't have much to hide. "Scan as much as you want."

He expected something showy, maybe a blue light to cone out of Maggy's eyes and trace his figure but Magnus simply blinked and nodded. The 'bot eased the bra out of his hands and went for the smaller waist size down.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Maggy clarified. Truthfully, Rodimus wasn't sure; he hated bras, had hated them from the moment his mom had forced him to wear them, had despised going out to buy even more. But years had passed, he hadn't had a bra in what felt like forever and Maggy had picked this one, he'd suggested it.

"Yeah," he was willing to give it a try.

Maggy nodded and scanned the rack, grabbing a few extra with different designs "incase one brakes". Rodimus shrugged, toddling along behind Maggy as he grabbed stuff and threw it into the basket.

"There are reading glasses here, Rodimus."

Pausing in squinting at a book rack, Rodimus turned around and spotted Maggy standing beside a shelf of blurry things.

"Oh, any of them good for me?"

"You have quite a high prescription." Maggy hummed, grabbing a colourless blotch to place on his nose. The legs settled nicely over his ears and Rodimus blinked at being able to see things up close for the first time in years. "Are these okay? Do they feel right?"

Rodimus smiled, "They feel great, Maggy. Good eye."

There was a small mirror on the shelf, showing him wearing a slim pair of rimless glasses. A little old fashioned but sure, he could deal with that. Another thing he noticed thanks to the mirror was his absurdly long hair.

"They look okay, we need scissors now and some water."

The scissors and a twelve pack of water bottles were found easily enough, and now that Rodimus was wearing glasses he could see all the things Maggy had decided they needed, most of it was random; an emergency adult-size poncho, a mini first-aid kit, three packs of socks, four packs of boxers, a couple more shirts and a few other things hidden under everything. Smiling, he bounced up to the cashier's till and waited for Maggy to dump the basket on the table.

The guy behind the counter blinked at the amount of stuff they'd gathered in fifteen minutes. "Y'all need a bag?"

The guy couldn't have been older than twenty but he was a stranger and Rodimus didn't like talking to strangers. He felt his throat close over at the very thought.

Maggy saved him the hassle of speaking, low bass rumbling from deep within his throat. "There's a bag in there, it should be big enough."

"Right," and Maggy was right, there was a rucksack in the basket which was definitely big enough to hold everything and even more. It was one if those hiking backpacks, Rodimus was sure, the type that was a stuff sack and meant no one packed like a civilised human being with them and just shoved everything in instead of folding things.

Aside from the already stated things there was also an emergency blanket, a kids fluffy blanket that folded into a cute heart (somehow), a droopy eared teddy bear and a few pairs of trousers, both trackies, and a long skirt. Rodimus also didn't miss the rainbow sweater that was thrown in there.

The total came up to nearly eighty dollars and while Rodimus stared at the till's glowing numbers, Maggy handed over the holo-money without hesitation. He kinda felt bad for conning this place out of nearly a hundred dollars (when the fuel was added in) but life was like the circle of life; unfair and continuous. What needed to be done had to be done.

"The bear's cute," he said conversationally as they climbed back into Maggy's alt. mode. "Surprised they had one."

"I found things I hadn't expected to find in there," Maggy nodded his agreement. Hungry, Rodimus pulled a brownie flavoured protein bar out of the bag and set the twelve pack of water on the floor, well out of the way of the door.

"How's the diesel doing?" He asked, simultaneously scoffing down the bar as he shoved his rugged backpack's contents into the new bag. It was sure spacious. Curious about the kid's folding blanket, Rodimus grabbed it and unlatched the button latch.

The blanket was definitely for a kid; having a cocky looking Elsa from that Frozen movie on the front. Surprisingly, the blanket was huge, unravelling to dwarf Rodimus' red one thrice over. It was thick too, which meant it would be warm. Smirking, Rodimus rolled it back up, fighting with it to get the same heart shape it had came in. By the time he was finished it looked more like a triangle but that was okay, at least it folded.

"The fuel seems to be okay," Maggy responded. "I put a lot in to get as much energon as possible so we should be able to drive for a week at least on this alone."

"That's good," he wasn't sure if that was good though. "You realise you won't burn through it all so quickly if you slow down, right? It might even last longer if you go a bit slower."

Magnus killed the speed, going from ninety to sixty. Mentally Rodimus shrugged, thankful for his seatbelt as he leaned forward to tap on the radio.

"They didn't have a bathroom there so we have to pull up at the next station." He said, remembering the scissors they'd bought (or stolen?). Finally he could cut his hair, it was way too long.

Magnus' holoform nodded. "That's alright."


	4. A Fiery Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're movin' fast with Time at their backs.

"A fire?"

"Yeah," Rodimus nodded like an excited dog. He bounced in the passenger seat. "I even got marshmallows for smores. C'mon, Maggy, please."

Ultra Magnus was long past the point of correcting Rodimus --"stop that, just call me Roddy"-- about his name. The mech was as stubborn as Ironhide and as bold as Ratchet when armed with a wrench. Instead, Ultra Magnus focused on the only unknown word in Rodimus' entire speech.

"What are 'smores'?"

Rodimus grinned, running a hand through freshly cut hair. He'd vanished into a roadside bathroom for ten minutes and returned with hair cut neatly to a 2, a fluffy fringe on top. Ultra Magnus silently wondered just how that had been achieved with a pair of scissors.

"Maggy, smores are only the best thing to grace the boyscouts' camping trips! Smores is when you roast a marshmallow over an open flame, usually on a fire, and put it between two chocolate coated biscuits. They're heavenly!"

"We do not have these biscuits," he tried to stall. Ultra Magnus had a route plan set up for his scanning patrols and he did not want to diverge from it, the moment he did would be the moment they lost whatever advantage they had against the humans' Cemetery Wind. The thought of being cornered with Rodimus, Lockdown raising his guns, made him speed up a few ticks.

"Yes we do," Rodimus clapped. "I got them too."

"Were you planning this, Roddy?" Rodimus demanded he call him Roddy now, after a bad nightmare an orn ago. They'd been on the road now for a few deca-orn, (a Cybertronian week of ten orn) roughly a human fortnight now and both of them had been getting restless.

"Nah," Rodimus smiled. Suddenly everything seemed a bit brighter than it had been a moment ago. Sensors flaring out to scan everything, Ultra Magnus found the light levels had not changed. So then why did everything around Rodimus seem so much more colourful?

"Are you sure?" Ultra Magnus prompted.

"I'm sure," Rodimus nodded, flicking through their limited selection of radio stations. "The biscuits and marshmallows are brilliant on their own. Hey, do you think you could eat human foods while in your holo?"

Ultra Magnus pondered that. "I am unsure, I will have to consult Perceptor's report. Although I am not entirely sure if he even thought about that."

"Well, if you eat one and then are sick we'll know pretty quick." Rodimus laughed quietly. He settled on one of those horrible pop stations. Ultra Magnus switched it to classical. "Hey! I was listening to that!"

"Not in my cab," he denied. Rodimus leaned forward to try and find the station again but couldn't (not at all because Ultra Magnus had deleted it from his catalogue). The human huffed, settling on an old rock station after sticking his glossa --tongue-- out like a petulant sparkling.

"So what do you say, Maggy?" Rodimus pestered again. "Whenever its real dark out, when we're passing through the canyons, we'll stop and have a camp out fire."

Ultra Magnus remained silent.

"Magnus," Rodimus lost a little bit of his playful tone. "I want to stretch my legs for once, this'll only take a couple of hours."

"Moving at night is the better option," he voiced. "We are being hunted, Roddy, and my technology allows me to mask all heat signatures which is most useful at night. We can't afford to stop and camp out."

Rodimus sighed and turned his head to stare out the passenger window. "A couple hours then we can get back in and drive for the rest of the night. We could even do it during sunset, start a bit before, so by the time we're done it's only just gotten dark -- that way we're not wasting the dark hours."

Ultra Magnus found no faults in Rodimus' reasoning. "Very well, Roddy. We'll pull over in nine hours."

It was worth it for his humans smile. "Thanks, Maggy."

Maggy had driven off road for a bit, gunning it over golden sands. He didn't want to risk transforming and leaving visible tracks, so he stayed in his alt. mode while his holoform appeared.

The fire was easily set up, Rodimus pointing out dead trees that were still standing with Maggy taking an axe to them. The sight was damn hot, even if the trees collpased after a few well placed swings. Maybe it was the sun's fading light casting Magnus' shirtless body into a golden glow, or maybe it was watching the muscles flex and ripple along Magnus' back as he swung, but by the end of the wood gathering Rodimus was feeling a little hot (but not bothered, not with Magnus' intense look of focus taking up his attention).

"Where shall we put these?" Maggy asked, hauling over what looked like half a tree on his back. Rodimus refrained from pointing out that Maggy was doing all the work and so there was no 'we' and pointed to a spot on the ground, close enough to Maggy's alt. mode that they wouldn't have to stalk around in the dark looking for it.

"There should be good," he hummed. "Keep some smaller bits for kindling, then we can add the bigger logs and all. We should be good with that one tree, actually."

"Are you sure?" Maggy questioned, eyebrow raised. He dumped the tree beside their soon-to-be fire.

"Yeah, it can't be too big and it's not like we're sticking it here for long. A smaller fire is a fire easily put out."

"How will we light it? Do you want me to grab my heat rifle?" Maggy set about breaking smaller branches off the tree, neatly piling them. Feeling useless with nothing to do, Rodimus positioned himself to grab the wood off the Cybertronian, taking control of the fire building.

"Nah, that's okay, Maggy." He smiled at the mental image of Maggy shooting at a pile of branches, the fire rising in a plume to detail every little crease and each defined muscle -- okay, maybe he was getting a bit out of hand. "I've got a lighter."

"Very well," Maggy started handing him the bigger branches like they weighed nothing. Rodimus, not willing to back down from a challenge, tried to grab them like he wasn't struggling to keep himself upright along with the logs. He hadn't been aware how heavy a dead tree could be.

The sun was begining its slow descent down past the horizon when they finished up murdering the tree (was it possible to kill something already dead? To re-kill it?). After rummaging through his coat for his lighter, Rodimus made his way towards their little wood pile and stopped short.

Ultra Magnus had commanded his alt. to project a single camping chair, which he now sat on. His head was tipped back, eyes closed with the most serene expression on his face. Rodimus stared, something curling deep inside him. His fingers tingled with the feeling and as he stepped forward and clicked the lighter, Magnus didn't move.

The wood caught, kindling snapping softly as it begun to heat up. It would take hours for the tree to burn up completely but they wouldn't be hanging around for that. Rodimus looked back at Magnus and wondered if this roadtrip would be his only one. Maggy was being hunted and the moment he'd be discovered would condemn him as well. This was essentially the crossroads for him; stay with the good looking, kind alien or go back to the cold streets and dirty glares from passers by.

Dropping himself onto Maggy's lap Rodimus smirked at the 'bot's startled look. "How are you, Maggy?"

"I am well, Rodimus." The nightmare echoed vanities with the use of his chosen name but the voice that said it in real time was different enough that Rodimus wasn't complaining. "And you?"

"'M good," he said, leaning into that muscled chest as he hooked an arm around the holoform's neck. He gazed into those bright blue eyes and smiled. Maggy stared back, tense shoulders falling a tad. Rodimus hadn't even realised the way the 'bot hunched in on himself from the tension but now that he had he wormed his way closer and straightened his back with a hug. His stomach was shaking with rampant butterflies. "How tall are you, Maggy?"

"Six foot six if I stand with my back straight," the holo breathed. "Any reason?"

Rodimus' breath caught in his throat. His fingers trailed up the nape of Magnus' neck and curled in his shaved hair. He would be lying if he denied attempting to copy Magnus' hair when he'd taken the scissors to his own but there was only so much one could do with _scissors. _

"Well," Rodimus murmured, head dipping to nip at Maggy's neck. "I like tall guys."

"Rodimus, I'm an alien."

"Guess I like tall aliens too." Ultra Magnus' eyes glowed with something Rodimus had never seen before, then the 'bot was wrapping calloused fingers around his bicep, tugging him closer to kiss him.

Rodimus would chose the alien any day.

He pulled back panting, cheeks flushed, pupils wide. "What about the smores?"

Magnus kissed up the side of his neck, latching onto his jaw. "They can wait until later."

Why the Autobot and his squishy had stopped in the middle of nowhere, Ravage was unsure. What she was sure about though, was that they'd _stopped._

A deca-orn ago she'd came upon Ultra Magnus sitting in a scrapped alt. mode with a human pet running around outside him. She'd confronted them, over-eager at the sight of a Cybertronian --the first one she'd seen since they'd all scattered at the first whiff of the organics hunting them down with guns that _hurt. _And yeah, so what. Maybe she'd scared the living daylights out of the pet, maybe Ultra Magnus had transformed and threatened her, but at the end of it she'd left and she was only lonelier now that she knew her kind weren't all offlined.

Ravage had contacted Soundwave through their Creator-Sparkling bond and had received the order "survive". She wasn't sure what that meant but her creator was always like this, always clammed up his emotions and hid them in the back of his cortex so that his performance wasn't effected during trying times like these. The only reason he'd returned to Space was to spread his comm signals, hoping to regain contact with Starscream to goad the Seeker's return.

After all this, Ravage doubted Star would be coming back. His sparkmate was offlined, surely he'd felt the pain. It would be a precedent if the Seeker wasn't insane from the grieving alone. Starscream and Megatron had been sparkmates for millions of earthern years, vorns. The loss of one had to have pained the other, especially with such a bond as theirs.

But her creator was intent. He denied the claims that the Decepticons' Second in Command wasn't returning and held out his comm lines, determined to fix the situation of his ragged leadership.

Now Ravage was alone on this dirt bucket and she disliked it. The other 'Cons feared her and even if they would've talked to her, their comm. lines were down with one of the human's most recent inventions. It was all so very frustrating and she was hungry. Hungry like her and her siblings and Creator had been when Soundwave had been forced to fight in Kaon's gladiator battles for credits, simply so they could get energon. Those had been dark times.

Hungry and with Soundwave off planet, Ravage's options were highly diminished. She could either go hungry or she could find allies and leech off them.

So she'd picked up Ultra Magnus' trail again --this time going off her Cybertronian tracking systems of scent because he'd pulled the dispelling programs down hard to cover his tracks. His diffusion was up high, all heat signals quashed before they even got past his exoskeleton.

Here she was, perched on a far off rock that was getting sand into her joints. Magnus had driven off road for about a mile, well out of the passing traffic's eye, apparently for no other reason than to seduce the organic.

Ravage didn't see the appeal in the squishy creatures; they were useless, and the Autobots had previously proven that when their Prime had been forced to go into hiding with the Witwicky boy following him. The humans demanded attention, called for unneeded 'necessities' and required protection. Possibly she was being harsh, her mindset still stuck in Kaon's grimy streets, but her points were valid. The humans were a setback that the Decepticons had used to their advantage but now the setbacks were hunting them.

A few hundred yards across from her, Ultra Magnus was fragging the human. Now, not that Ravage cared but there was a difference between her knowing about it and her having to actually watch it. Of course this would be the time she finally caught up with them after a deca-orn of tracking.

Finding the timing inopportune --as funny as it would be to scare the energon out of Magnus while he was interfacing-- Ravage laid her head down on the rock, ears pressed flat against her helm to drown out the moans, and decided to wait until the sun rose. Or until they stopped, which ever one happened first.

Ultra Magnus hugged his human close and for the first time since before the war had started felt as ease. Roddy was asleep against his chest, breaths nothing more than light whisps against his exposed muscle.

He should've done this sooner; sped up his travels to arrive on this planet. Not because he enjoyed getting stones and dirt in his seams or tyres, but because he enjoyed Rodimus' company. Truly, Roddy was one of those 'once in a sparktime' creations that you met and chose instantly. Kup had always chattered about the old times when he was on the high grade. The old 'bot had murmured wishful tellings of couples truly in love --nothing like the arranged marriages that had been flying around to create alliances just as the war began-- and he'd said his stories with a sappiness that had revolted Ultra Magnus. The times had been changing, war was on the horizon, they'd had no time to be nostalgic.

But now... Now Ultra Magnus understood. Because being happy, being near the one who your spark pulsed joyfully for, was so much better than wiping out a Decepticon battle fleet. The feeling of being near them was so much more permenant than the battle high of adrenaline.

His sensors picked up a dip in temperature so he projected a blanket over Roddy to keep him warm. The mech sure liked his warmth, that was assured. He'd taken quite liberally to the sparkling blanket that he'd got him in jest.

A soft smile on his lips, Ultra Magnus looked down at the fragile being that he loved. Love had never taken its rootings so quickly before, not even with crushes --who'd then been forgotten about deca-orns later. Ruffling his sweetling's hair, he admired the colour of it. Roddy claimed it was all natural but Ultra Magnus didn't quite know; it was such a deep red that neither ginger or auburn covered it. The colour, according to his analysis programs, was more of a dark pink in this fire light, whilst during the day it was more a crimson.

His sensors fluctuated. Ultra Magnus looked up, calm evaportaing. Ravage stood opposite them, helm and main bodice now black, tail a stripped mayhem of black and silver, her sharp tail dagger now a dark blue. Her red optics stared at them. Ultra Magnus stared right back, a thousand scenarios running through his tactical prgrams.

"What do you want?" He broke the silence, fingers coming up to soothe Roddy as he shifted in his lap. Ultra Magnus' sensors spread out in a concentrated pulse, searching for other spark signatures be they friendly or not. The scan came up negative, minus the one in front of him. "Why have you returned?"

"Soundwave's up in space," the cassette said. "I have nowhere else to go, no one to trust."

He weighed up the risk of transforming his alt. The sound could wake Roddy and that was the last thing he wanted, Primus knew the mech needed his recharge. Transforming could also leave tracks for them to be tracked by. He remained in his alt., holoform remaining strong.

"What changed from a deca-orn ago?"

Ravage looked down, paw scuffing the ground. The fire made her plating shine but the signs of malnutrition (the dulled optics, slow wagging tail) were daringly obvious. "I knew there were more 'Cons out there. The humans have taken down a third of our numbers. Starscream is out in space, mourning his mate. Soundwave is trying to get us help, trying to get us out of here. And you Autobots? You're just taking this all in stride, I want to know how."

Ultra Magnus got the feeling that wasn't the point she'd wanted to make.

"We don't take it in stride," he said, careful of his words and volume. "We are spread thin, hiding. The humans who used to be our allies have turned against us, I do not envision Prime being pleased about that."

"I don't care about Prime," Ravage shook her head, tail wagging a bit faster in frustration. "I want to know how you just landed and yet you know everything on what to do, I want to know how you do this."

"This?" He repeated. "You think this is false? You think I am acting?" Unbidden, a sharp laugh slid out of his vocalizer. "No, I have fallen hard for this human, now all I can do is protect him. I'm simply acting on instinct, my programs running on full."

"You've barely known him less than a deca-orn," Ravage pointed out. "While the 'fragging is understandable 'cuz we're playing with time, the fact you're keeping it—"

"He." Ultra Magnus corrected. "Rodimus is a sentient being like any of us, he deserves the chance to live as much as we all do."

"Even Megatron?"

"Megatron's offlined."

The panther nodded and sat down with a thud. Her actions sent a cloud of sand up into the air, only just visible with the fire blazing. For a few klicks they sat there, nothing but the fire crackling interrupting the silence. Then, Ravage spoke up, voice nothing more than a ragged whisper, decibels away from being unaudible.

"I would like to stay with you, in return for energon. We- I believe we need to stay together in times like these, factions or no factions."

"I accept," Ravage jolted up, helm swinging to look at him, optics wide. "On the condition you protect Rodimus with your life."

The cassette opened her mouth in a low growl. "I will not become a slave."

"That is not what I ask," he shook his head, fingers tangling in Roddy's hair. It was soft and helped ground him. "I simply ask you protect Rodimus when I can not. In return, you will receive freedom of action, as long as you don't kill any innocent organics."

"Protect the femme and watch out for the bystanders," Ravage mused. "Alright, I'm good with that if you are...?"

It was said with a hesitance that made Ultra Magnus rethink his plan, double checking everything to ensure the panther had all the freedoms of any wartime 'bot. "This is your choice," he said. "And Rodimus is not a femme."

"I think I can recognise a knock-off of our femme frames when I see one," Ravage snarked.

"Rodimus does not perform to such gender alliances, he wishes to be addressed as a mech and so he shall be." Ultra Magnus defended.

Ravage tipped her shoulders in a shrug. "Very well, as long as he doesn't go on about it like Starscream. I agree to your terms."

Ultra Magnus sat back in his chair, unsure of when he'd sat up. Rodimus was still in recharge. He tilted his head back to watch the stars overhead, noting how none of these constellations were the same as Cybertrons. Suddenly homesick, he pulled his head up to look at the Decepticon across from him. Ravage's head was atop her paws, her tail limp on the ground. The only thing to show she was awake was the red glow of her optics as she watched the fire crackle.

"Ravage," the panther stilled at her name, head rising from her paws. "Come and sit with us."

Cautiously, she approached, circling around the fire. Ravage froze beside him, body tense as if waiting for orders.

"You have no need to fear us, if you are kind to Rodimus he will be kind to you and I will keep my word." He tried to calm her. He motioned to the ground beside him where a large holo-pillow appeared. Ravage hissed at the objects sudden appearance. "Sit with us, it's much warmer around this side."

Warily, Ravage sat on the pillow and when it did not disappear from underneath her, she relaxed a tad, dropping her helm to her frontal struts.

With Ravage content, Ultra Magnus powered down his systems, deciding to keep his holoform on whilst he recharged with the heat of the fire against his legs.

Rodimus hummed along to the radio, fingers tapping out the unfamiliar rhythm.

"Ravage's tracking systems has picked up muted spark signatures in the generalized area of Pennsylvania. She's picked up around six—"

"Or seven," the panther curled below Roddy's feet cut in.

"—signals in the Appalachian Mountains."

"Sweet, so we're heading Northeast." He mused. "Do you guys know if they're friendlies?"

"Unsure." Ravage spoke with her usual growl that seemed to come with her panther mode. Roddy had yet to see the femme's root mode but he'd been told by Maggy she was a good few foot taller than him. "My trackers have been switched to search for any sparks and with the heavy nullifiers over them it's hard to make out their affiliations."

"The spark does not tell us which faction the mechs are in, Rodimus." Maggy added, holoform flexing his fingers around the steering wheel. "It only tells us if they are alive. It is up to the mechs to add in that information if they see fit, although with nullifiers on the spark signature is meant to dissapear completely."

"You think somebody's is malfunctioning if we're able to pick it up?" Roddy queried. "Could this be a trap set by Cemetery Wind?"

The cab fell silent at that, then, "Possibly, but my programs are fine-tuned by Soundwave himself. It's not surprising I can pick up things Ultra Magnus can't."

"You are a natural born tracker, Ravage." Maggy said. "It is no surprise to me that your range is further than mine."

Feeling a bit awkward with the stilted silence that commenced, Rodimus pulled out a brownie and offered Ravage some.

"Why would I eat that filth?" The panther hissed, head perching on the lip of the chair as her body sprawled out on Maggy's cabin floor. "What even is it?"

"It's a double chocolate brownie," Rodimus explained, waving a bit in front of the panther's face. "They're really nice. You sure you don't want to try a bit?"

"I don't want that organic fuel in me," Ravage growled, red eyes glaring up at him.

"But you can eat it?" Interesting how she could but Maggy couldn't when he was in robot mode.

"I am a tracker and scavenger, I must adapt to survive." The panther boasted. She continued on blabbering but Rodimus lost interest and turned to Maggy.

"You want a bit?" He offered.

"Sure," Magnus opened his mouth and Rodimus dropped the bit into his mouth. Maggy chewed thoughtfully for a moment before nodding. "It tastes good."

Ravage scowled and sunk down to the floor again.

"I do not understand you two," she complained.

"You just need to hang about us a little longer," Rodimus grinned, bending double to pat the large metal cat. Her blue tail dagger swung happily at the attention.

Optimus Prime frowned at the projected map he and his Autobots were staring at. They'd parked up in the mountains, nowhere remotely close to civilization yet they were still tense. Too many of their own had been dropping off recently, no thanks to the human's acursed group, Cemetery Wind. The entire planet was a danger zone now, nothing could change that.

"I think we should try to leave America," Hound said. "Cemterey Wind has roots here, not predominantly anywhere else on this mud ball. And I'm still not familiar with this continents geology."

"So?" Sideswipe intoned, skating around on his wheels to 'stretch his wheels' (as Sam had joked, taking pitch of the normal saying of humans to 'stretch their legs'). They'd all been driving for a few deca-orn and with little to no chances of transforming, Optimus knew the relief the frontliner was no doubt feeling at having the opportunity to explore in his root mode. He felt the very same way, he simply did not whirr around like a sparkling with the emotion. "Just 'cause you don't know where we are doesn't mean we leave. What about all the others? We should at least get revenge for our fallen brethren before we flunk it off to space."

"Megatron is offlined," Drift -- a newly landed 'bot -- reasoned, hand on his hips, digits digging into his samurai themed skirt. "There is no reason to stay here."

"I vote we return ta Cybertron an' fix her up." Jazz said, crouched low. His visor glinted in the sun's pesky rays, showing an indifferent mech. Optimus understood Jazz's vote, the mech had taken a dislike to Earth vorns after they'd discovered their medical tech wasn't nearly as helpful for them as previously assumed, they'd been thousands if not millions of years behind in all fields. His TIC's near-miss at Megatron's hands had not helped. "Ratch and Prowler are waitin' for us. Why not leave now?"

"There's no reason to ride the storm," Bumblebess spoke in downloaded sitcom clips -- a route he'd been forced to take. Not everywhere they went had a radio link and the young mech had grown tired of beeping with his car horn to spell out Morse code.

"We will remain," Optimus announced, feeling Samuel Witwicky shift on his shoulder plate. "If not for the reason to protect our allie, then to put a stop to the huntings of our kind."

There was a pause as his mechs mulled that over, Arcee shifting on her wheels the only sound to be heard. Evidently, Sideswipe had calmed and taken up position of dutiful lookout.

"If Sammy wants to come with I'm sure I could fix somethin' up for him," Crosshairs declared suddenly, arms crossed. "But if he doesn't we can get him fake credentials and leave."

Sam heaved a sigh. "This is like before Chicago all over again."

"Well excuse us for wantin' to go back home. We're prey righ' now and if you're not sure, prey usually ends up dead." Crosshairs shrugged stiffly. A moment passed before he turned around and went to join Sideswipe who was (while still acting as lookout) skating around their chosen crater that was in the mountains from a previous 'Con landing.

On his shoulder, Sam didn't move.

"Mech's gotta point," Jazz hummed, looking towards the sun. His visor glinted. "Maybe we should pounce back, 'stead o' kickin' back... Prey can only be hunted fer so long, afta' all."

Optimus vented in surprise while the others shot Jazz unsteady looks. Leave it up to their resident ops member to change his processor at the mention of a tidal change.

"Would we have enough fire power to go head to head with the organic's stolen tech?" Drift mused.

Hound blew out a breath of his pre-war Golden Era manufactured cigar. Optimus did not doubt he'd received it from Mirage. "I wouldn't worry 'bout that, after 'Tron went dark me, Cross and Mirage went out scoutin'. Found some goodies that we split evenly."

"And you didn't tell us about this why?" Arcee asked, a sharp tip to her tone. The femme was getting unsettled at being out in the open, like much of his 'bots. Optimus cast a glance around and seen Sideswipe rocking on his wheels, pointing past the mountain as he conversed with Crosshairs. They needed to get going again, before his frontliner and paratrooper, respectively, abandoned the cruise.

"Didn't come up in convo before this," Hound answered, not making a move to take the defensive. They'd been travelling as a group long enough to know when not to push each other. "All I'm sayin' is that I might have enough gear to blow up a ship."

"Wha' sort o' ship?" Jazz asked.

"A small warship," Hound made a gesture. "Give or take."

Well, Optimus certainly didn't have to worry about Hound's ammo running out.

"Sideswipe," he called. The red twin twirled on his wheels and skated over to the main group.

"O.P.," Sideswipe greeted.

"What is your weapon storage like?"

Sideswipe went silent, categorizing everything in his extensive subspace modding -- Optimus knew it was extensive, he'd seen the Lamborgini stash five cars in there to hold onto for part raiding, one of which had been a truck the size of Optimus himself. And he'd still had room afterwards to subspace three more vehicles. "Oh," the twin said. "Enough to get by."

"A translation would be appreciated," Sam smirked.

Sideswipe shrugged. "Got loads of bits and bobs that Sunny has most the triggers for -- said he didn't trust me to not fire them accidentally. Fully operational weapons take up about sixty percent of the three hundred and twelve max., only enough to wipe out a couple solar systems."

"Very well," that was more than enough for them all. Sideswipe was definitely the first into battle no matter the orn. Optimus trusted him to take care of his gear.

"I've roughly got enough grenades to send Soundwave screaming for his carrier," Arcee added and a round of consent followed. Most of his soldiers stocked up on things until their amounts got to the extremes. Guns and other weapons were never in the shortage, especially when there was such an abundance of scrapyards scattered over the US. Never let it be said an Autobot couldn't find at least six things to become three bombs in a 'yard.

"Splendid," he announced, somehow relieved to hear his Autobots had the amount of gear they did. A small part in the back of his CPU silently protested the sheer amount, but the larger part shut it down with the truth that they _needed_ it. Especially with the humans _hunting _them down_._

"If we're finished talking about how you guys can blow up half the moon with one 'bots arsenal, can we get some food?" Sam interjected after Optimus' nod of approval. "I'm kinda hungry."

Sideswipe tilted his head, "Scanners are picking up a building three hundred clicks East."

"How can you be so sure it is a human eating place?" Drift questioned curiously.

A laugh answered him. "I just know."

Optimus gave the order to his frontliner to scout the place before climbing out of the crater and transforming for Sam to climb into his semi's cab.

In reality, Sideswipe knew there was a human 'diner' three hundred clicks East because he and Crosshairs had seen its huge neon sign from their vantage point on the lip of the crater.

Optimus would've shook his head were he in his bipedal mode but as it was he signaled his Autobots to proceed. He parked in the establishments carpark and activated his holoform, his Autobots following his lead. Sam's stomach gurgled happily as he jumped out.


	5. A Painted Day's Night

_A man loomed over him, face set in a stern frown. Rodimus' fingers twitched, his body jerked in the bonds that kept him tied down to the metal table._ _Panic coursed through his veins, lighting them with the fierce need to run, to hide, to get away from this._

_"Hush, boy," the man smirked. "This will only hurt for a little while."_

_The needle loomed nearer, ready to add to the track marks already painting Rodimus' skin. He started to shake, teeth chattering in dread._

_"Please, please," he begged helplessly. He tried to tug at his restraints but they didn't budge. His pleas grew in pitch, signifying his horror. "Don't do this. You don't have to do this."_

_The man, Silas Stone, looked him in the eye and nodded. "But duty beckons, boy. And someone has to answer."_

_The metal pricked his skin and pain engulfed everything._

Rodimus jerked upright, mouth gaping for air, lungs burning as he quivered from shock. His nerves bounced with the lingering pain of the needle's contents and everything was fuzzy, the world blurring before him as he coughed and spluttered for oxygen. His throat was too dry, like he'd screamed aloud just as he had in his fake messed up nightmare -- because that was all it had been; a messed up notion of his tired head.

A calloused hand grabbed his shoulder and shook him out of his daze.

"Rodimus," Maggy looked scared. His voice was lower than normal; soft and worried. Why was he scared? Rodimus had dreamt through the nightmare, not him. "It's okay, you're awake now. You had a nightmare."

He blinked a couple times and felt his heart slow a little at the realisation that he was still in Maggy's cab, that he was safe. There were no metal tables in sight. Ravage was curled in the drivers seat, red eyes watching him curiously as Maggy settled beside him on the passenger seat and pulled him close.

"Would you like to talk about it? I heard that helps."

"No," he nearly stuttered and as he reprimanded himself Ravage's tail swept over to curl reassuringly around his ankle. The action helped ground him in the present and like it or not Rodimus' inner thoughts ceased at the positive contact. Supplimented by Maggy hugging him tighter.

"You screamed," the panther noted. "You were scared."

"It was a nightmare," he snapped, harsher than he'd intended. "What am I supposed to do, smile?"

Ravage didn't respond, eyes unblinking as they bored into him.

"I think Ravage was trying to ask if you're okay now." Maggy brushed a hand through his hair, fingers digging through the thick locks to scrape his scalp. It was calming. "You gave us quite the scare."

He found it in him to give a humourless huff. "Uh-huh. And when did you start learning Earth sayings?"

"When I downloaded the entire array of movies you recommended," Maggy replied, his smile pressing into his forehead as he leaned down for a kiss. "Don't try to change the subject, Rodimus."

"I prefer to talk around matters than about them," he said evasively. Ravage retracted her tail and jumped down onto the cab's floor to settle at his crossed legs, head resting on the point where they met. Her fine wire whiskers scraped gently over his legs. It tickled. Absently Rodimus curled a finger behind her ear flaps, collapsing his fingers around her jaw in a friendly manner.

Maggy hummed, windows dark enough already so that any passers-by wouldn't be able to see the lack of a driver. Rodimus thought he might poof out of existence again, without warning - as had become his habit - but his holo remained, hand curled up in Rodimus' hair. Ravage seemed nullified by the lull in conversation and let her tail flick around lazily, eyes half closed. She leaned into his touch.

A few minutes later Maggy's dash sensor screen lit up, showing the spark signals they were tracking and their own. Theirs was a small light blue arrow and not three radar-rings away was a clustered ball of red dots. There was six at first glance but every now and then a seventh fluttered for a brief moment before vanishing.

"It seems the seventh's spark signal dampener is malfunctioning," Maggy said. "Although I find it odd that there is one with a dampener and six without."

"We're out of range for scents but I can tell this smells weird," Ravage said. Rodimus smiled slightly at the cat's wording. "I'd bet my weekly energon that there's going to be a few more than the sensors say."

"But how many?" Rodimus asked, voice feeling stronger now that his pulse was soothed.

"One for sure."

"And?" He prodded.

Maggy pinched his nose with two fingers, his other hand falling out of Rodimus' hair to settle on his shoulder. The radar in his alts dash glowed a dull green in the darkened cab. It cast the holo in a certain light that Rodimus could appreciate, probably would've appreciated a bit more if he hadn't of just jerked up from a nightmare.

"There could be as little as two or as many as twenty," the 'bot said. "Although twenty is unlikely with our race's current numbers it _is_ plausible."

"So we're going in blind," something twisted in Rodimus' gut. He didn't like the feeling, didn't like not knowing -- it was like being at home all over again, walking on eggshells around Father to not set him off on a drunken rage. A particularly horrible night, where Rodimus had stumbled down the stairs for a glass of water and had ended up as Father's punching bag, flitted through his thoughts, the scene etching itself into his mind's eye. He nearly shivered despite the inhumane heat Maggy radiated.

Ravage perked up suddenly, nose tilting to the sky then as low as she could get it to the ground. "Cybertronains," she growled. "At least eight, a few clicks northwest of here. There's organics too."

Maggy grunted and sped his alt up. He pecked Rodimus' cheek before shifting his holo to the drivers seat. A second later a map appeared, satellite imagery showing seemingly nothing but mountains for miles, then when he zoomed in, buildings appeared. The were dotted around the landscape at random, few and sparse inbetween. So much so, that the closest house neighbours were over six miles in each direction. Map and radar mingled, forming an accurate location for them to travel to.

Beside a diner sat the six and one flickering red dots.

"That's them?" Rodimus checked.

Maggy confirmed, "Indeed."

Ravage, eager for the action, turned on her tabby cat holo and buried her real form under Maggy's cab seats. With a mewl, she jumped onto his shoulder and curled up, eyes twinkling with mischief. Rodimus couldn't help but pet her.

The roadside diner was the average expected size, although it was terribly empty. The old woman behind the counter nodded at them as their group fluttered to one of the large corner booths, one which had a good view of the entire diner.

"Quaint place this," Hound said, his holoform thumping down on the old booth cushions. Bumblebee shot the dust that puffed up from underneath the tracker an untrusting look before he too slid around the booth. Sam parked himself beside 'Bee and Optimus sat beside him. Jazz slipped in, settling down beside Optimus with Sideswipe quickly following after the saboteur. Moments later Arcee and Drift joined them in the oddly curved booth. It was certainly large enough for them all.

"Indeed, Hound." Optimus agreed. "It's quiet."

"Just what we like, huh." Sam flashed the wooden table an uneasy smirk as he eyed the menus beside Hound. "Ey, greenie, pass the menus round."

"'Course," with a rumble the mech flicked the menus at Sam. Bumblebee caught them seconds before their laminated edges left Sam without an eye.

"Do they do pastas?" Arcee murmured, snatching a menu as they were passed around. The booth they'd chosen was long enough for all nine of them (well, currently eight. Crosshairs was quickly reconfiguring his holo to match his psyche again after having to change it to steal necessities for Samuel) which greatly pleased Optimus. "They do, I want a lasaña. What about you, Drift?"

Drift, as it so happened, had ended up beside the groups only femme. Therefore he'd been left to her clutches, forced into a conversation with her that he didn't look too confortable with. Drift, having only landed a few human days ago (in one of Japan's swamps, no less), was still a bit awkward around them all and was uninformed of Arcee's differing attitude of 'cold shoulder or fast paced conversation'. He seemed a bit stunned at the femme's sudden good mood.

"I believe I will try this 'hamburger'," hummed the samurai-esque mech. He flicked a silver strand of hair that had escaped his tight ponytail out of his face and studied the drink section. "Also a milkshake."

"Milkshakes are good," Sideswipe grinned. "Chocolate's the best."

"I prefer strawberry," Arcee rolled her shoulders elicting a sharp crack of her bones. Relaxing a tad, she leaned back against the plush back of the booth and seemed to find its coolness nice.

Optimus, on the other hand, found the cold backing horrible. It did nothing for his bad shoulder (an injury from his real form that was transfered over when he activated his pysche observing holo). Despite this not being his first time visiting a human establishment whilst in his holoform, the very action gave him a bad feeling every time. It was almost as if something was tugging at his chassis, grabbing ahold of his spark and pulling it down into his boots.

Maybe it was seeing what the humans lived like, how they were so similar to Cybertron's people before she'd went dark. Quite possibly that was what made the Matrix thump with nostalgia behind his chestplates, or it could've been the comadery at the table.

His Autobots were smiling, laughing and joking. Arcee, Sideswipe and Drift were in a smile-filled conversation about human sweets which Jazz had happily joined, Bumblebee and Sam were joking about something (the scout being able to talk in his holoform as the device used its own voice chip to generate their voices so they weren't so metalic) and Hound was making grand gestures with Crosshairs who'd just returned from reconfiguring his holoform. His spark ached as Hound tugged Crosshairs into his lap, trapping him between himself and the table. The two whispered back and forth, conversation growing louder as Hound turned to the ecosystems and how Crosshairs hair looked like a tree of one of the rainforests, the green haired mech reverently denying it as he laughed.

Watching them dragged up beautiful memories of Elita One, his precious sparkmate. He missed her, missed her so much. The fact that he was unsure if she'd made it off Cybertron after their planet had ceased her production at the death of the Well made him feel terrible. It made him feel like a bad sparkmate. A mate who didn't care for his lover. As horrible as that sounded, they'd been separated -- thus his lack of information -- and Optimus had been forced to go after Megatron as he took the Nemesis and fled their dying world. Now, galaxies apart, they were too far away for their sparkbonded mindlink to work.

The old woman from behind the counter began her shuffle over, smile pleasant. His 'bots stilled for a moment before renouncing her threat level and deeming her safe. Optimus worried for them. He truly worried.

When a normal elderly lady approached them and everyone tensed, it was a sign of paranoia. The way that Hound's jaw was locked tight, how Sideswipe's eyes fully scanned the innocent woman, Jazz stiffening almost like a statue and the way Arcee blew her hair out of her eyes for a proper visual were all signs of what the humans had nicknamed PTSD. Rung could probably have written him three datapads of information on it by now for him, significantly labelling the pros and the vastly outweighing cons of such a predicament. Now, he may not know a lot about this but Optimus was sure that post-traumatic stress showing its roots meant the war had been going on for far too long.

Optimus being this weary meant he hadn't been getting enough recharge of late.

"Boy am I glad a group as big as y'all came in," the woman with greying hair smiled. She clicked her pen on her notepad. The sound grated on his audios. "This booth was once made specially for a rich couple who used to live nearby. They had it custom made and gave it to us so that they could seat their little fifteen person wedding here. Such a lovely event."

"Sounds nice," Arcee smiled. The strain in her eyes was minute and barely noticable to the untrained eye.

"It was," the old woman nodded, not noticing anything amiss. She didn't even spare Crosshairs and Hound a second glance. "Shame they didn't stay long after that, they were just adorable together. Anyways, what can I get y'all cuties?"

"I'd love a lasaña with a strawberry milkshake, please." Arcee chirped and so began the rush to order.

Jazz and Crosshairs chose off the vegetarian section. Arcee, Bumblebee and Hound chose from the pastas. Optimus chose a burger alongside Samuel. Sideswipe decided on chicken nuggets.

"Really, Sides?" Jazz chuckled as the woman left to push their order into the kitchen. "Chicken nuggets?"

"I panicked," the frontliner smiled sheepishly. "And chicken nuggets taste good."

"There's things out there better than bits of chicken," Hound offered. "Take sausages, for instance."

"Yeah, but chickens are cuter than pigs, Hound." Sideswipe added. There was a round of smirks and chuckles before it died down, anxiety bubbling into silence.

Beside Optimus, Jazz shifted, hands rising to rub at his eyes past his visor look-alike shades. The others made no reaction, all either sitting in their respective 'brooding' poses or staring at something. Suddenly, Hound jerked, shifting Crosshairs who'd been glowering at the ceiling. The sudden movement gained everybots attention, eyes flowing to the mech.

"Incoming, Boss," the tracker scout said. "Big truck, bigger than you. It's going a bit slow. Oddly slow."

Optimus pulled his head from reminiscing about Elita to the situation at hand. The road they were along had taken no traffic aside from them today, indicating the road was sparsely used. The very fact that a truck was coming down this road was concerning.

Or maybe they were all simply paranoid.

"Keep your fields in," he ordered and everyone nodded, doing just that. If the truck was a Cybertronian they would sense the EM fields pulsing at them and if they were a Decepticon then there would most certainly be a fight. The 'Cons had been too silent since the human's shunning of their kind months ago. "Keep your sensors on them, Hound."

"They're pullin' in," Crosshairs hummed, lithe human fingers picking at his trench coat's sleeve. "Parkin'."

Not fifteen seconds later a short man with bright pink hair bounced into the diner, a black and white cat curled around his shoulders. His Autobots sighed, all deflating as the man smiled at the old woman. He posed no threat.

Then a man, easily over six foot, entered after the pink haired one. This man stood with his back straight, dark blue hair curled into a cuff, lips thin. His long coat had the badge of a commander on it, a large scraggly 'W' searing through it, visible even from across the room. His boots clicked on the polished floor as he followed the pink-ette, settling down opposite the beaming ray of sunshine like a storm cloud. They chose the booth beside the door.

Optimus watched them, noting how his soldiers had stiffened at the sight of a fellow soldier. The blue haired man nodded silently at the elderly woman as she shuffled over for their orders, cooing at the cat which was still perched grumpily on the pink haired man's shoulder. He seemed younger than the stern man, baggy tank top shifting in the breeze from the diner's open windows. Black straps rose from the top, purple shorts sifting into knee high durable boots. There was something odd about those two, Optimus just couldn't put his finger on it -- as the humans said.

As they ordered the cat jumped off the human's shoulders, purring tauntingly as the stern man shot it a look. The Autobots beside Optimus started up meaningless conversation again as the cat stalked towards them. As one they stilled when the cat jumped up onto the edge of their table.

"Aww look," Arcee smiled, reaching out to rub behind the cats ears; all a façade, everyone knew how to act for appearances, how to keep a straight face. Optimus knew his Auotbots were tense. "A cute little kitty."

The black cat purred, its white belly shaking with the action. Its tail whiped up, blue at the end. When it blinked its eyes shot wide, pupils red.

Optimus was not well aqcuainted with earthern animals but he was sure their cats did not have red eyes.

"Rav!" The pink haired man jumped from his seat, quickly making his way towards them as soon as the stern man motioned towards his shoulder. When he stopped in front of them his blue eyes gleamed. He smiled sheepishly, one hand rubbing at his neck as he used the other to beckon the cat towards him. "I'm sorry if she's annoying you, she gets excited."

"Don't worry," Arcee smirked as the man successfully beckoned the cat back onto his shoulder. With an almost imagined huff, the cat skuttled up his outstretched arm and settled on his right shoulder again, long tail snapping back and forth. Her red eyes never left Optimus'. It was unnerving. "She didn't do anything. She's a cutie, what's her name?"

The human seemed to calm a little, smile becoming softer as Arcee engaged him in a friendly conversation. The cat rumbled out a long purr that too seemed to reassure the man. "She is adorable, isn't she? Her name's Ravage."

The cat flicked her tail at them, lips peeling back in a snarl as the man laughed --the sound light but weighty.

"She gets a bit moody." He said, completely aware of how they'd all frozen in place. If the twinkle in his eyes said anything it was that he was enjoying this. Optimus was now sure he was overly paranoid. "What brings you guys out here?"

"Road trip," Sam answered for them. "We figured it was time for a scenery change."

"Really? That's funny," he raised an eyebrow. "You guys are goin' on a road trip in a Bugatti?"

Drift laughed nervously, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck like the man had moments ago. "My Grandfather gifted me the car," he lied easily. "He demanded I get at least ten thousand miles on it before I sell it, so here we are, Bugatti and all."

"Rodimus," called the stern man as he walked over to them. He clapped a hand onto the pink haired man's back gently, careful of shifting Ravage's position. "I ordered you pancakes, if that is alright."

Rodimus nodded. "That's okay, Maggy. I love pancakes."

Maggy grunted and shot them a look. "Who are your new friends?"

"I'm not sure," Rodimus hummed. "They never introduced themselves."

Maggy glared at them so harshly Optimus wondered if they'd offended him. It felt like something about this encounter would be their undoing, perhaps this was it.

Wilting under the glare, Crosshairs pinged the group's private comm. link. **:Y'all ready to kick it? Mr. 'Maggy' looks pissed.:**

"Sorry 'bout that," Jazz spoke up, saving them all. His smile was sharp but friendly. "We were talkin' 'bout the cat 'fore we could get anythin' else out. Ah'm Jazz."

Ravage growled. Brow creasing, Rodimus reached up and ran his fingers through her fluffy coat, soothing her.

"I'm Arcee," the femme smiled. It was safe to use their names here, seeing as once their status as 'dangerous' had been put out their names had been sealed in confidential documents -- that is, if they even remembered the newer one's names. "It's nice to meet you two."

Their resident frontliner and twin offered the two a grin. "Sideswipe."

"I am Drift," nodded the samurai. "It is an honor."

"Name's Crosshairs," the green haired holoform butted in. He motioned beside him, "This 'ere's Hound."

"Hello," Hound said, voice gruff.

"I'm Bumblebee," the scout grinned, winking at Rodimus. The pink haired man smirked. Maggy raised an eyebrow.

Sam smiled, giving a little wave. "I'm Sam, nice to meet you."

Optimus offered a kind smile. He was unsure about this 'Maggy' but the man Rodimus seemed alright. "I am Optimus, it's a pleasure to meet you both."

The man Maggy sighed and crossed his arms. "You lot just can't keep your tailpipes out of it, can you, Prime?"

**:What?:**

**:Uhm, seriously concerned here. How does he know this?:**

**:The frag?:**

The voices over the comm. link came in such a blurr it was hard to make out who said what. Optimus frowned, who could—

"Ultra Magnus," he announced, eyes wide. "We thought you'd been deactivated."

Optimus stood to greet him but Ultra Magnus motioned him back. Rodimus was grinning like a mad man, eyes flitting between them all.

"I am not like Megatron's current state, Brother." He shook his head, his term of affection raising something in Optimus' chest. "I am alive and well, as you can see."

"And for that we are glad," Optimus said. "How long have you been here?"

"A few deca-orn too long," Ultra Magnus grunted. "Autobots, this is Rodimus."

"Heyo," Rodimus smiled, easing himself into Magnus' side. The 'bots arm easily slid around the man's waist, keeping him close. Optimus tracked the movement, noting it as interesting. "Y'all can call me Roddy."

"You Ultra's human or somethin'?" Crosshairs asked curiosly.

Roddy's smile wavered. "Um..."

Magnus gave Crosshairs an unimpressed look. "He is his own human, Crosshairs. Remember that."

"Alrigh', alrigh'," Crosshairs raised his hands. "Sorry."

Roddy shrugged, jarring Ravage who hissed unpleasantly.

"How'd you guys end up with Ravage?"

"She found us," Roddy answered, voice lower than before. He seemed more hesitant now, drawing further away from the table. Magnus' arm was seemingly the only thing keeping him in front of them. "We're having a mini truce."

**"I go where I want," **she hissed in Cybertronain, tail swivelling to latch onto Roddy's wrist. Roddy seemed nonplussed by the action but Optimus, like Magnus and the others, kept a keen eye on the cat's actions. Truce or not, Ravage was a Decepticon. And her Carrier was currently Acting Commander.

The cat was not to be underestimated.

The old woman began her approach, plates layered in her arms. "'Scuse me, darlin'," she called to Roddy who quickly stepped out of her way with a spluttered apology. "Here we have it, a few plates of a lot. Lasaña?"

"Me," Arcee called. Optimus added Ultra Magnus to their private comm. group as the woman passed out their food.

**:Where are you heading, Magnus?:**

Ultra Magnus nodded to them, leaving them to their food as he and Roddy left for their own booth, the old woman assuring them theirs would be out soon.

**:Actually, we picked up six or seven spark signatures in this area -- assumingly yours. We followed them, hoping to meet up with allies to deal with Cemetery Wind.:**

**:Y'all ran inta them too?:** Jazz queried.

**:Who hasn't is what you should be asking.: **Bumblebee chirped.

**:Indeed: **Magnus grunted. **:I ran into them when I first landed. Are you aware they have rockets that damage us?:**

**:They've stolen our tech:** said Hound. **:When Cross and I popped up between them and a lake we got fired at with rocket launchers that were copies of Mud and Skids cannons.:**

**:The Chevys did always have some cool stuff.: **Sideswipe added, picking at his chicken nuggets.

There was a overjoyed sound from Roddy and Magnus' booth. Optimus looked over to find a large stack of pancakes set between the two, Roddy nagging at Magnus to hurry up as he drizzled the chocolate sauce over the large stack.

**:We'll meet outside when we're done here, we need to work out a plan.:**

**:Indeed, it is good to have you back, Ultra Magnus.: **Optimus quickly added.

**:You are too kind, Brother.:** Magnus said. **:But I too am glad to back among friends.:**

Optimus felt a burst of joy from within, overjoyed that Ultra Magnus had addressed them as friends rather than mere allies.

"So who's who?" Rodimus asked when they were outside. Ultra Magnus stuck close to his side, not because he feared his human would be injured or was under threat from his fellow Autobots, but because Rodimus tended to get out of hand when excited. Ultra Magnus was surprised his human hadn't choked up at the communication with the bots like he had with the gas-station humans.

"I am the blue Bugatti," Drift said, speech slow and soft like a Japanese man who'd lived his fair share of life. He seemed to have taken inspiration from them, with his pysche holo even having the pinched look of kindness some Japanese people sported. Ultra Magnus had never met the mech before but the Autobot army had once been huge, millions of mecha signing up by the vorn. It was no surprise he didn't recognise a single face or name.

He'd be receiving a databurst report later, when Optimus gathered what information he deemed necessary. Ultra Magnus was sure the information of everybot would be inside it.

"Figured," Rodimus didn't seem too interested in Drift's alt. mode. He edged towards the red lamborgini. "Who's this?"

"Me," Sideswipe said, holo meeting his human by the frontliner's alt. His grin was wide. "You like?"

"'S slim, you got lucky with this one."

SIideswipe laughed. "Yep. Way better than a boring old truck."

Rodimus gave him a look that could easily be passed off as indifference but Ultra Magnus knew better. The mech's comment had irritated him. Ultra Magnus was in half the mind to reprimand the warrior but in that moment Optimus chose to send the databurst.

As he got lost in the plethora of files and reports, Ultra Magnus nearly didn't hear Rodimus' retort. _Nearly._

"At least a truck can ram a line of cars and not buckle like a trash can getting kicked."

Sideswipe, obviously unsure of what to say, shuttered his optics and opened his mouth like a fish. Jazz, having overheard like the rest of them, burst out in contagious laughter.

"You, ma mech, Ah like," the saboteur clapped Rodimus lightly on the back, weary of Ultra Magnus standing beside him, watching everything. "Ah'm the white Mazra. The car's a real beauty, betta' than Sides' lambo."

Rodimus shrugged. "How much better?"

Jazz looked coy. "Only has a top speed one hundred and fifty mph above ya mech's."

"Oh, come on!" Sideswipe raised an argumentive eyebrow. "That's because you pull on your Cybertronian form, Jazz, at least I stick to my form's limits."

"Really now! What was tha' when Menasor came afta ya? Tha' didn' look like 'form limits', Siders."

"That was different, I prefer to be in one piece, not many." The frontliner crossed his arms, singling off against the impenetrable brick wall that was Jazz with his hands on his hips.

Rodimus looked between them and laughed. "Alright guys, cool your jets. You're both pretty."

"T'ank ya," Jazz grinned, visor catching in the sun.

"No way I'm not a bit prettier than him," Sideswipe said. Satisfied the two wouldn't irritate Rodimus further, Ultra Magnus withdrew, thoroughly scanning through the files.

Their kind's history on this meek planet was as Ravage had put it; alliances had been booming before Sentinel had betrayed them. Then the human's grew to know the meaning of fear and shunned them, chasing them down with newer organisations built for the sole purpose to track and destroy them. Already, in around eight months, the Autobots had lost over half their numbers -- with bots being offlined or others retreating to Space, like Ratchet, with hopes of waiting it out.

The 'bot's files all worked out, times and dates for landings all set most of them to be on sturdy ground, ground that had been supported by the government of America. That meant most of them were known to the forces hunting them down, all but three: Crosshairs the paratrooper, Hound the scout and tracker of Jazz' esteemed Special Operations unit and Drift... an ex-Con.

Drift, formerly blood thirsty Deadlock, was only an Autobot as of two deca-orn. An earthern month. Despite Optimus' notes on his file stating he was acclimating well to the Autobots side, Jazz had added his own notes observing an uneasiness within the mech that could not be ignored.

Ultra Magnus did not want this mech around Rodimus -- sweet little impressionable Rodimus who could be so easily hurt if somebot like them made the slightest wrong move. He dreaded the thought of his sweetling being left alone with Drift, weaponless and unable to defend himself.

He privately commed Optimus. **:You have a Decepticon within your ranks and you withheld from immediately informing me, Optimus?:**

Across the small parking lot, beside Arcee, Bumblebee and Sam, Optimus scoffed. **:Drift poses no threat to us, Magnus. You needn't worry.:**

**:It is my job to worry, Brother, and I worry now that you have let in a spy. At least tell me you had your SIC run him through.:**

**:Jazz did not interrorgate him: **Optimus sounded peeved at the very notion. **:Drift, like us, is simply looking for a home—:**

**:Of which we have galaxies away? I do not understand why you act like Cybertron is non-existent, Optimus, all she needs is new energon and she will be renewed. The incorporation of the Allspark would've greatly helped but...:**

**:What's done is done, Brother.: **Optimus said. **:We can not change the past, only fix the future. And please, how exactly do you propose I get all these 'bots back to Cybertron? A simple shuttle craft would not be enough, even if we had one.:**

**:The Ark went down in this system eons ago: **Ultra Magnus noted.

**:I thought you relied on fact more than fiction, Magnus.: **Optimus pinged quickly. **:And even if she did, we have not yet found her...:**

**:Did you even look?:**

Optimus didn't answer.

Ultra Magnus sighed aloud, **:That's what I thought. Optimus, although I do not recommend instantly returning to Cybertron our home world is not missing. Earth has already turned against us and if we were to locate the Ark her ARK-Class mainframe and systems would be more than enough to buffer us through the asteriod storms.:**

**:I will think about it: **said Optimus. Ultra Magnus stopped there, knowing his Prime could be as stubborn as a turbo-rat when he wanted to. Anyway, 'I'll think about it' was as good an admission as any. He did not doubt they'd soon be scanning on the low-down radar for the ship.

"So you're the green Jeep, Hound?"

At the sound of Rodimus' voice, Ultra Magnus' consciousness was pulled out of his finished files. Looking up he found his human had moved towards the other bots, engaging them in conversation that seemed to be holding their interest.

The tracker nodded, gotee bouncing with his pride. "Yep, took me a while to find a suitable mode but when I seen this one I knew it was the one. Crosshairs on the other hand just chose the first flashy car to drive by."

"Hey! Just 'cause I was the first to get my alt. mode doesn't mean you have to be jealous, sweetspark." The paratrooper raised a prim eyebrow, not looking impressed while Hound snickered at him. Rodimus looked a little lost.

"What does 'sweetspark' mean?" He asked.

"'S a term o' endearmen'," Jazz explained. "Lennox once said it was like your 'darlin'' or 'sweetheart'. Us Cybertronains use it more among tha bonded."

"Bonded is like marriage, right?"

"Yeah," Sideswipe nodded. Ultra Magnus took a step forward to join their conversational circle. He noted how Optimus and a few of his other 'bots hung back, namely the human Samuel Witwicky. How confusing that the human would not want to be near one of his own after so long, especially one who was on the same side as him.

"Nice," Rodimus gravitated towards Ultra Magnus, bumping elbows with him. He addressed the group as a whole. "I take it Optimus is the semi and Bumblebee is the yellow and black Camaro?"

"Correct," he answered. "It seems that Prime has a liking for all trucks -- seeing as how it is the only form he repetitively chooses."

"Ah see ya've chosen a desert crawler, Magnus." Jazz grinned, head tilting towards his alt. "Didn't take ya for the ammunition holder."

"My encounter with Cemetery Wind has left me with a sour mood for their antics," he clarified. Privately he commed, **:I'd advise finding out whose spark dampener isn't working and who does not have one. You are all lucky to not have been found by any Decepticons yet.:**

**:Tha 'Cons are in chaos after Meg's offlinin': **the SIC shot him a grim look. **:An' with Sounders up in Space ya can bet they aren't makin' any coordinated moves any time soon.:**

**:It does not need to be coordinated so much as coincidence: **he reminded.

"None of us like 'em," Crosshairs said, referring to Cemetery Wind. "Seein' as they've locked down on us."

"I take it you are all aware of Lockdown's alliance with them?" Ultra Magnus queried, loud enough for everyone to hear.

It was answer enough with how they all froze in place.

Optimus frowned. "Let's get going, we can plan on the way. Autobots, roll out."


	6. A Bloody, Cold Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: please don't read after the first space if gore/character death triggers you. Otherwise, enjoy!

They decided, as a unit, to go deep off road and pitch a camp where no human would venture. It was tense, an unspoken agreement of comm silence ensuing to allow everybot the chance to concentrate and run through their inventories in emergency checks. Lockdown's presence had come as a surprise to the other Autobots — a fact which concerned Ultra Magnus more than he cared to admit.

To think that they could've been unknowingly ambused, caught off guard by a bounty hunter as fierce as Lockdown sent shivers down Magnus' spinal struts. It was a vile thought but it was likely Lockdown was getting something out of this deal that they were woefully unaware of.

Coming upon a fairly well hidden crevice of rock that held a position of height, they eased to a stop, alt modes forming an uneasy half-circle within their ranks. The terrain was rocky around them, Alppalachian mountains towering steeply, proving such fierocity in the way the land before them dropped into a cliff, a dangerous valley rearing its depths at them. Their ledge was a good standpoint to watch the moon rise.

Deciding to keep the protection of their alts, holoforms were activated and doors were popped open. Quickly, Hound and Crosshairs set about gathering deadwood amongst the barren mountain's trees and dusty rock.

At the fire's creation they amassed around it like moths, holoforms projecting out seats and benches. Nearly everyone cast out a camping chair, sinking into their fold-ups. Hound projected a large beanbag for himself and Crosshairs which Ultra Magnus found endearing, therefore casting a loveseat for Rodimus and him.

Rodimus pushed this back with a pout and was climbing over his lap a moment later, Magnus settling down into own camp chair. Ravage curled over his engine, content to watch from a distance from her position of heat. Ultra Magnus did not belittle her, instead summoning up a blanket for Roddy and then a separate one for her. She purred her delight as Rodimus offered him a quick kiss on the jaw.

"Nice night for a fire," Samuel Witwicky said, resting back on a chair somebot had conjured for him. "Shame we don't have smores."

The dread hit him helm-on as Rodimus jolted upright. His sweetlings smile was beautiful but groan inducing nonetheless. "We have smores!" His human cheered, "Don't we, Maggy? Everyone can get some!"

"What's smores?" Sideswipe questioned as Rodimus jumped off his lap to get the abundance of biscuits and marshmallows he'd stashed away 'for later'. Ultra Magnus missed the heat of his human as he gazed into the fire.

Crosshairs snapped a particularly large branch in half and pushed it into the growing fire that radiated a pleasing warmth.

"It's a codeword for biscuits and marshmallows," Samuel explained, sounding happy but nothing near Rodimus' exbundance. "A common campfire experience where you roast a 'mallow on a stick over the fire and eat it like a sandwich with the digestives."

"Got them!" Rodimus bounded back into their campfire circle and went about the line, methodically giving each bot (and human) a biscuit and marshmallow each. "You pierce it with a small stick and smush it in with the biscuit when it's all gooey!"

"Why's my marshmallow white when Greenie's is pink? Isn't that racist?" Sideswipe started.

Rodimus tilted his head, laughing. He looked genuinely amused. "No, not really. It's just the way they are. Would ya like a pink one?"

"Nah," Sideswipe declared but accepted the pink marshmallow when it was pushed into his hands.

"We gotta good colour scheme goin' on fer th' roastin' or do we jus' wait it out?" Jazz asked. It seemed that all the bots were invested in this and not just because they were playing nice. Ultra Magnus felt oddly pleased by that fact.

"Golden's good," Roddy said, grabbing two sticks. He returned to Magnus' lap, passing off the second stick for his own marshmallow. "It means they're all gooey and nice. Easy for squishing with the digestives!"

"What's in these?" Hound asked, gently squeezing his own marshmallow between two labour-scarred fingers. He squinted at the tint ball of fluff as if it held the answers to the universe's questions.

"Marshmallow fluff," Rodimus replied. "Lots and lots of it. C'mon, roast it — they taste _really_ good!"

"Alright," Hound aqueased, spearing his with a stick and poking it out into the fire. His 'mallow fist bumped with Jazz' in the center of the fire.

Bumblebee wailed as his marshmallow dropped off his stick and plummeted into the firey depths of their fire pit. The blond haired holoform made a show of mourning his lost sweet treat as the others retracted theirs in a sudden show of possession. Rodimus laughed, the sound light and cheery, music to Magnus' audials.

"Here, 'Bee," Roddy offered, brandishing his stick and 'mallow. "Have mine!"

Bumblebee buzzed a feeble protest through his holo's voice box, "No! No! It's okay, you keep yours!"

Ultra Magnus noted the look the scout shot him, realising what was going on. Rodimus though, did not, and seemed put out that the bot wasn't accepting his offer.

"I believe there is another bag in the hand drawer," he announced, drawing the eyes of a cautious scout. Rodimus visibly brightened at that and once again offered his perfectly golden ball of fluff to the scout.

"Alright then. Thanks, Rodimus."

"No problemo!" His sweetling chirped, already skuttling off to retrieve the extra bag that Magnus had placed in his front cab.

Bumblebee squished the marshmallow into his biscuit and bit into it. He moaned. "This tastes so good!"

"I know right!" Rodimus returned, a new large bag clutched in his hands. He ripped it open with a soft pop, scooping about for a marshmallow to eat plain. He was without a stick now, having passed his off to Bumblebee and Ultra Magnus hated to see his human having to make do.

He offered his marshmallow with a silent nudge. Rodimus' eyes lit up and he grinned, shoving the bag into his hands with an order to hand them out as he grabbed the stick and bounced off.

"Somebot's whipped," Crosshairs snickered, reacting to Hound's slap with a loud yelp. Magnus avoided him, using his privellage with the marshmallow bag to deprive him. Sideswipe received two for the paratroopers struggle. "Hey now, that's no fair!"

Over by his alt, Rodimus had successfully coached Ravage into eating the golden marshmallow. Ultra Magnus was unsure if he should be jealous that his gifted 'mallow had went straight to a panther or if he should stop what he was doing to fully capture the glee in Rodimus' expression. His sweetspark dropped into their camp chair and Magnus completed the circle, noting with amusement how Optimus readily grabbed another fluff ball.

"Ugh," Crosshairs groaned, drooping over Hound's knee as he moaned the loss. With the bag now in his hands, Rodimus tittered and threw a marshmallow at the bot. Crosshairs cheered in thanks.

"What happened to Prowl's team?" Ultra Magnus queried in Cybertronian when things settled down and everybot had fallen into a moment of complacency. The sun had long fallen, the fire now the only source of light for miles around.

It was calming.

"They called ahead before landing," Sideswipe said. "So we were able to warn them off. They're up on the moon right now, chilling with their ship and their energon dispensers."

"Ah, sounds fun." He said, fingers threading through Rodimus' hair as his sweetling threw a few marshmallows at Bumblebee. The scout caught them in his mouth to a few claps of applause. "I was under the impression Ratchet was here with you all."

"He was," Optimus confirmed. "But he was separated from us and we all agreed that it was easier for him to join the Amoroa's crew up in space, where it was safer, than to stay down here."

Hound added, "Jetfire's arrival helped us out there."

"On that note, his landin' needs t'be discussed," Jazz said. "Prowler's sendin' 'im down soon with orders to retrieve 'Bee for that new voice module Ratch's cooked up. With any luck a deca up there will have us our quipping, chirping scout back on his voice box module-feet."

Jetfire was a space shuttle, capable of carrying up to six bots back and forth. The lack of energon they were running on would mean reduced numbers but even one was better than nothing. To have a space shuttle was comforting. Ultra Magnus only hoped his presence was not being perceived as an escape route.

"When is he due to land?"

"About half a deca-orn from now," a human week, give or take. "His charted flight plan is bringing him down somewhere around Tallahasse."

Ultra Magnus ran a quick search on this Tallahasse. "Florida?"

"Indeed," Optimus' gaze was set on the fire as Crosshairs chucked a new log into it, bringing forth new sparks and burning embers. Beside him, Rodimus seemed entranced by its beauty. It reminded Ultra Magnus of a funeral pyre; a common sight during the thick of the war.

The conversations in Cybertronian continued long into the night. Only when the fire threatened to burn out and Crosshairs and Bumblebee had completed a rock-paper-scissors battle over who was to venture out for more wood did Optimus declare it a night. Under the Prime's advisement the other bots retreated off into groups, a select few remaining around the fire, most powering down into recharge.

Ultra Magnus stayed, kept in place by the snoozing Rodimus in his lap. On his bonnet, Ravage chuckled. From his tired sprawl atop Hound, Crosshairs winked at him.

They took up course South, planning a heading to Tallahassee through the Carolinas and West Virginia by Route 77. It was a fifteen hour long journey by road, according to Jazz. Although that was if they kept up a rough speed of 66mph. Rodimus had to say, he'd never thought he'd see past Wichita — being the small Kansas boy he was.

Ultra Magnus translated the comm. link into english and played it quietly on his speakers for Rodimus and a dozing Ravage. The cool air that gushed out of his vents was a vast difference to the blood curdling steam that rose from the highway. The heat was nice, even if it was only because of the sun bearing down on them from above.

He didn't know what was in Tallahassee, only really knowing about its gun laws (or lack thereof, c'mon guys, it's 2014) and people from that old Zombie Wonderland movie; the one with peoppe named after their hometowns. Apparently whatever was there appealed greatly to the remaining Autobots. Rodimus wouldn't question it, he was only along for the ride afterall.

(He was still waiting for Maggy to get bored of him and dump him at the side of the road.)

**:So we're gonna go flop 'round with the tourists afterwards?:** Crosshairs asked, his green corvette fishtailing a few yards ahead of them, stricken against the barren highway. The lack of traffic was unusal but then again, Rodimus was a dust-dweller, not used to these roads or people. It was also mighty hot, temperatures soaring past the ninties - possibly a reason for the limited numbers on the roads. He wondered if the group of random oddball vehicles wasn't too noticable.** :Who decided this again? Remind me.:**

**:I did:** Optimus stated, not a trace of fight-starting defiance in his tone. This Prime guy was all mellow tones and softly hummed words - far from Rodimus' vision of a leader. But according to Maggy, the big red and blue truck had pulled them through millennia of war, so he had to be doing something right. **:With input from both Jazz and Sideswipe.:**

**:What does Sideswipe know about Florida? Tallahassee, to be exact?:** Sam queried through Bumblebee's comm. Rodimus wasn't too sure about the only other human; he wouldn't have even known his name were it not for the introductions a while back. Maybe Sam had the social anxiety that Roddy usually had? It would certainly explain why he hadn't so much as glanced at him in the diner's parking lot or at their camp out last night.

**:Maybe the fact that that's the only place where loads of rich tourists are around this time of year.:** Sideswipe readily rose to defend himself.** :It's still warm there and there's droves of people, which provides us with cover. Plus, Tallahasse is close to the border. There's a few places we can lay low and keep out of the national news.:**

**:Great. Human cover:** Arcee hummed, not sounding overly happy. **:And secret dens. I did not sign up for this.:**

**:I do not think anyone did:** the samurai guy, Drift, with the black and blue bugatti, agreed.

**:We're in this together:** Hound said, gently chugging forth on his four-wheeled drive. Rodimus sighed, resettling himself against the passenger doors armrest. The sun glinted off the backends of the cars in front, looking meek compared to Maggy's lumbering bulk.

**:Aren't we always?:** Arcee mumbled. The bickering died down in wake of hitting up a new exit.

At least Florida would be warm, which meant Rodimus would be comfortable at night without a fortress of blankets. That was something he'd be looking forward to; Kansas' heat addiction had always been hard to shake. Out on the streets he'd been hard pressed for anything other than his blanket. Even then it had been too small and all too thin.

"Plus Flordia has the best theme parks," Rodimus grinned, comfortable to add in wirh the conversation being held over the comm. "So we have to go to at least one."

**:O' 'course!:** Jazz cheered, sealing their fates.** :Got any y'all like?:**

"Not too fussed on the where or when," Rodimus shrugged, content to sit back in Maggy's cab and listen to the thump of static that signaled an open comm.

Sam spoke,** :Seaworld could be fun.:**

**:I ain't lookin' to get wet, fleshie.:** Sideswipe intoned.

**:And you won't:** Bumblebee chirped, voice a weird staticco monotone that put Rodimus on edge for reasons unknown.** :Your holoform can't get wet, 'Sides, remember?:**

There was something that sounded like a huff from the aforementioned before Crosshairs cut in.

**:Listen, 'Bee, we all know 'Sides struggles. Ain't no point in makin' it harder for him.:**

**:Shut it, you rust bucket!:** Sideswipe snapped.** :Like you're any better, mister 'oh I forgot the polish'.:**

**:Hey! I did forget.:**

**:It was the only thing you were meant to get.:**

**:At least the rags he brought back were useful:** Hound tried to salvage.

**:Those were my shirts:** Sam bemoaned. Bumblebee chirruped something that got drowned out by a cackle from Crosshairs.

**:They couldn't have been that important if they were dumped into the crate:**

**:I told you, they fell in!:**

**:Sure:** Sideswipe didn't sound convinced.

Unbidden, Rodimus snickered. He almost missed the way Crosshairs' corvette slowed to what was nearly a complete drop in fifty miles per hour.

**:Company:** said the Cybertronian, bursting into the channel with a serious tone — a far cry from his earlier playful lilt.** :Got five vans, all black, nondescript, approaching from mid-west. Nearly fifty over the speed limit.:**

**:Definitely in a hurry then:** Arcee mused, dark undertone clearly audible. Rodimus felt his heart jump in a gruelling mix of both excitement and anticipation. **:Orders, Prime?:**

The comm fell silent in wait. Rodimus took the opportunity to shift, nudging Ravage with his socked toe. On an afterthought, he slipped on his shoes. Just in case Maggy decided now was a good time for that roadside drop-off.

:**Hound, scan for any detours we can take separately that could link up should we need to split. Send everybot those co-ords. Crosshairs, do a sweep of the sky, anything unfamiliar could be him. Everyone else, diverge. We're too obvious like this. If somebot is targeted take evasive actions, see if you can outrun them. Avoid being followed as best you can.:**

**:Yes, sir:** was the synonymous response. In an attempt to ease his nerves, Rodimus rubbed behind Ravage's ear as she leapt up onto his lap, curious nose snuffling at his hair.

"What's the chances of them shooting at us?" He asked just as gunshots rung out. A few yards ahead, Crosshairs swerved like a drunkard, garbled curses fluttering over the line. Rodimus jolted, feeling his eyes go wide as the green corvette hard shouldered it to the side. The comm clicked off, Magnus no longer keeping it open. In the silence of a roaring engine, Rodimus was left painfully unaware of the proceedings. "What's happened?"

"His tyres are blown," Magnus replied, tone tight. "Put your seatbelt on."

Rodimus did as he was told. Just as the buckle snapped into place he was pushed back by Ultra Magnus' sudden climb in speed. For a huge truck, he sure was quick. Mildly, he wondered how much energy he was burning through.

A high pitched buzz echoed through the air and Maggy muttered something in his _click-snap-cluck_ language that had Ravage growling. The gear stick jolted on its own, furiously working its way around the board as Magnus accelerated. He was past ninety miles an hour when the vans started shooting, men in black police-type suits hanging out the windows with big guns. Rodimus watched them take aim through the wingmirror, heart thumping a nervous beat. The high pitched buzz picked up, sounding almost shrill, before it cut out suddenly.

"Lockdown is here," Maggy announced just as a deep rumbling penetrated the air. It felt like the road was bouncing and Rodimus gripped his seatbelt to combat the newfound urge to vomit. "Our comms are cut, we're heading East."

A few hundred yards ahead of them a gleaming silver hulk of obvasive bulk and firey rockets landed, a green and silver bot emerging from the cockpit. Rodimus took the gumption to assume that he was Lockdown.

"What're we gonna do?" He burbled, stuck between excited, queasy and swallowing down his puke. Ravage looked astute on his lap, red eyes narrowed as her tail snapped back and forth.

The gunmen started firing, soft bullets that pinged off the cabs doors. A few yards ahead of them Arcee, with her little motorbike and holoform, swerved to dodge a few would-be tyre putter-outers and sped up. The rest of the bots had spread out, some taking the nearest exit, evidently keyed into a plan Roddy was not. The only ones left on the road were Arcee, Crosshairs and Hound (although both a few yards back now), Prime and them.

Optimus, ahead of the group by a long streak, transformed and lunged at a van that had gotten too close to the exit. Rodimus watched as they passed by, enthrawled as the Prime reared back with his huge battle axe and plunged down, tearing the van in half. The men inside rolled out like logs. Prime tranformed back into his truck, gunning it for the two vans that were still swerving after Maggy.

Arcee was nearing Lockdown now, her agile form zipping between two vans and toying with them. The men looked like they were shouting at each other, violent gestures and scathing frowns being traded as they both tried to shoot down the femme.

A van swerved in front of Maggy, slamming down the breaks. At the speed they were going at they'd crash into them. Cringing down to wait for the impact, Rodimus sqeezed the seatbelt tighter. Ravage mewled.

"Hold on!" Magnus roared before Rodimus was breathing fresh air, wind rattling through his hair. Magnus' large fist closed around him and Ravage as he vaulted the van, having forcefully ejected them from the cab to whoosh through the air. A rifle appeared in the Cybertronian's hand as he fired off a few shots. They crunched back into Maggy's alt's cab seats a second later, the loud explosion from behind rippling them forward.

Rodimus bounced in his seat, Ravage looking ruffled beside him. "That was awesome!" He chittered, unsure whether he was supposed to feel sorry for those guys or not.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," came Magnus' calm baritone. Rodimus felt his insides crease. He felt warm.

Outside, on the road, Optimus levelled off with them after bumping the other van off into the ditchlands beside the road. His holoform nodded to them, blue hair shaking with his alt as he bounced over the remains of the van Maggy'd dealt with.

Heart relaxing, Rodimus looked ahead of them. The motorcycle was zooming along, holoform bent double as Arcee sped forwards. She'd tricked the two vans into shooting themselves out; Rodimus marvelled at the genius of it. For a moment, all was calm. Then Lockdown stepped out onto the road.

Arcee picked up speed, probably intending to get past him. She succeeded, swishing past the accredited bounty hunter without a problem. The bot watched her go, blank faceplates registering nothing past the green mask he wore. Maggy cut the speed, Prime doing the same. They intended to fight, Rodimus realised.

"I'll drop you off," Magnus had started but cut off abruptly as Lockdown whirled and fired some sort of Batman-esque grapple at Arcee's retreating form. It hitched onto her and despite her rushed tranformation and plasma blasters firing off, she was unable to break free. Prime had picked the miles back up, speeding towards Lockdown once more but he was too late.

Lockdown used Arcee's momentum against her and with one great heave, tugged the light femme towards him. He grabbed her in a chokehold, hand crushing down as he gripped the slim of her waist. The bounty hunter turned to grin at them, eyes a bright yellow, and _pulled—_

Arcee was torn apart, green internal energon painting the road as her spine was pulled from the inside out. Stretched vertebrae caught on her lower back plating, dragging and screeching. Her scream was deafening, but nothing compared to the long _scree-clink-scree_ of her spine being set free from its confines. She hung limp in his hands, spine waving sickeningly with Lockdown's meaningful shake.

Optimus Prime transformed just as Magnus skidded to a halt. Rodimus was ushered out of the cab, Maggy's _afraid horrified angry_ blue eyes beaming down at him. "Stay here," was the order. Ravage curled around him, smushing him down into the grass, maybe hoping to block his view.

But he could see. The sight was seared into his brain; Arcee's spine dripping the green fluid, her optics dim, Prime's howl of anguish and fury and vengence. Ultra Magnus' worried look, the fast but gentle shove out of his cab as he transformed, two great swords slipping out of his arms as he turned heel and sprinted towards the bounty hunter that had just killed one of their own.

He'd thought Transformers were unkillable. Knew they were by human means outside of their specially stolen guns. To think that, in an endangered race, their own kind would be out killing them... it was _disgusting._

_Father loomed over him, sneer cruel, eyes harsh. "You think you're different, girl? You're nothing but a little—"_

Maggy's roar of hatred broke him out of his trance, made him aware of a scattered looking Ravage crouching over him, the wet of the damp grass against his back. A few yards over Prime and Maggy were double teaming Lockdown, slamming him back with brutal blows that rung out shrilly.

Arcee's corpse was turning grey. Blue energon surrounded her, creeping into the cracks of the road and painting a giant toxic spider web through the tarmac. It glimmered in the sun's bright rays, the very light nearly blinding him were it not for his upraised hand. Rodimus felt numb, thoughts feeling sluggish as he watched Maggy swap to a pulse rifle and fire at a retreating Lockdown who looked far too smug to be good.

The ground shook as Lockdown departed, leaving them with a final wave and a few deterring missiles that had Maggy and Prime stumbling back out of their range. Venom stirred in his gut, rage pouring forth as Rodimus staggered to his feet, a wary Ravage nudging his side and keeping him upright when his body threatened to falter.

He stared at Arcee, feeling pity for the bot that had went too soon. Rodimus didn't even know he'd walked over to them until Magnus' hand picked him up, wrapping him in a cold metal embrace. High up, the sky seemed bluer, the dirt of the road invisible as he lay on his back, staring up at Maggy's pretty blue orbs of constantly shifting light. The sun pinged off Maggy's armour; he looked like a Knight in the literal, stereotyped shining armour.

"Careful, Rodimus," warned Magnus. "Our lifeblood is corrosive and deadly to you humans."

On the ground, Ravage growled. "I couldn't even smell him coming. The comms cutting were all the warning we got."

A heavy silence fell over the Cybertronians. Rodimus, feeling a bit more sparky, risked the climb up to Maggy's shoulder plate. Up there, the carnage looked worse than it had ground-level.

The blue energon had begun to burn away at the road, the spider webbed cracks leading out to the marshlands that had began steaming and crackling as the energon seeped into the land. Arcee's spine lay in a strewn out glob of green goo whilst her severed body was crumpled in a heap of energon. Her once bright navy and pink armour had faded to a deathly grey, her lifelike optics now dull and black. Her head faced one way, neck twisted and crushed from Lockdown's hold whilst her body was crushed into the ground, her armour having chipped and buckled under the strain of what looked like a two-pronged foot.

Rodimus wondered how he'd missed Lockdown stepping on her. He cast that thought off, no longer comfortable to stare at their dead comrade as Optimus shifted towards her.

"What do we do?" Was the meek question; a question Rodimus found himself asking out loud.

Ravage sniffed and turned away from Arcee, taking a leap at Maggy and ending up on his cradling arm. Maggy seemed fine after the fight with the bounty hunter but Optimus looked a little worse for wear, a few long scrapes down his back visible when he stepped forth and crouched by Arcee. Magnus shifted, stepping forth to put a hand on the Prime's shoulder as the other's head bowed. At such a vantage, Rodimus looked at the Autobot's leader and found he looked tired.

Very suddenly, he felt sorry for them. Felt anguished for the race of sentient beings that only wanted a home they couldn't have. Maggy had told him about Cybertron, whispered stories of great days gone past, of a planet torn by war and broken by lack of faith. These Cybertronians had no home, had nowhere to go that wasn't space or earth.

And earth had abandoned them; cast them out like dust.

The very thought made Rodimus' chest pang in hurt.

"I'll deal with her," Optimus said, standing to reciprocate the hand on his shoulder with Maggy. His eyes were bright now, battle mask firmly in place. His shoulders were straightened then flexed before he spoke. "Go, when it is safe I'll send out the signal."

Magnus stirred but hesitated. "Optimus—"

"Go, old friend." The Prime nodded, already crouching down to lift Arcee. "I will send her off. It is important somebot oversees Jetfire's landing."

"Be sensible, Prime," were Maggy's parting words. Rodimus was set on the ground again, alongside Rav, and beckoned into Magnus' cab as he transformed.

"When am I not?" Optimus echoed as the passenger door slammed shut. Magnus gunned it out of there, the Prime's silhoutte getting smaller and smaller the faster they went.

Roddy sounded small when he asked, "What's he going to do to her?"

"He'll send her off with an honorable mention."

"What?" Rodimus focused on the road in front of them, finally able to tear his eyes away from the wingmirror as Prime vanished from sight. The world seemed darker now, the light of the sun diminished.

"He's going to light the femme's energon on fire," Ravage said. "Effectively reducing her to charred ash."

Rodimus swallowed and tried to ignore the way his hands shook.


	7. Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings again, I swear I'm not trying to kill off my entire cast but (heh) it seems like my muse is social distancing from me...

After three days of endless trucking about the Carolinas they finally shored up in Tallahassee at the predetermined coordinates. Rodimus was halfway through his latest batch of 'help-me-deal-with-this' Lu PiM's orange cakes when they rocked into the sweet outskirts of Florida, sky giving way to a bright full moon. Maggy'd said their shuttle could only come in the dark; too noticeable during daylight. Plus, apparently the army and air sensors were both, respectively, more lax and easier to hack at night — though the validity of that statement he questioned, as Ravage had said it.

They clipped in through the city, following roads until they entered the gates for Plank Road State Forest, twenty three minutes outside of Tallahassee. With the State Forest being relatively new and next to unheard of, it was empty and without security. Although the fact it was near three AM probably had to do with the lack of human life. Anyone sane was in bed, asleep, right now.

At the very edge of the site sat an abandoned store. It had once been a confectionary holder, thirty years ago, according to its signs, but now it towered uneasily at two stories high. In its barren lot, Maggy transformed so they could walk their way over to the abandoned airfield strip down near the next site's end. Mud and logs and all sorts of ferns were everywhere as they delved through the brush, ignoring the signs of civilization behind them in favour of the jagged vines of ivy that painted a bright picture of nature in free roam as they turned their backs to the direction of the Gulf.

It all seemed bleak to Rodimus. Ravage was curling around him as they walked, not literally touching but circling like a predator that wanted to savour the prey. It didn't faze him much; if Rav wanted him dead he wouldn't be here. Albeit, the behaviour was curious. Still, he said nothing as he jumped over a ditch, Ravage's lean frame bending agily as she leapt. Her tail snapped through the air, jagged blue tip creating a soft _woosh-woosh-snap_ as Magnus easily stepped over the soft dip in land.

Finally, nearly ten minutes after they'd pulled up to halt tyre tracks and take it rough, they broke through the thick of the fern and came out into a clearing. An ancient looking, cracked tarmac road appeared, a mass of colours huddled around the grass beside it. The sky bellowed above their heads, black and white with stars. To his right, at a stark 1 o'clock, sat the moon, standing a silent guard over the proceedings.

Rodimus prayed to it for a safe journey even though he didn't believe in gods.

Sideswipe turned and grinned at them, waving them over. Even in the dark his red paintjob gleamed for all to see. "Heya! Lookin' swell guys."

Rodimus couldn't find it in himself to speak, floundering by Maggy's leg. His bot took pity and exchanged greetings for them both. Ravage brushed up against his shin in a show of solidarity. Roddy was sure it was meant to be comforting but in all seriousness he could barely feel his legs.

"What of Prime?" Someone asked. Sounded a bit like the green jeep guy, Hound. "He said he'd ping."

Maggy shook his head and the group rippled around themselves, drawn faces looking worried.

"What about Arcee?" Drift asked, samurai robes fluttering around him as he turned from the tree he'd been inspecting by the clearing's edge.

Rodimus swallowed down the bile, clinging to Maggy's leg as Ravage let out a low growl.

"Lockdown," Magnus explained and a deadly hush fell over the group.

"Dear Primus," Jazz mumbled, fingers pinching his nose. His head had bowed, just like Bumblebee and Hound's had. Hound murmured something, helmet coming off as he clutched it briefly to his chest.

"May she rest with Vector Sigma," Crosshairs added, his words getting nods from Sideswipe and Drift.

"Her loss will be felt keenly," Magnus agreed sorrowfully. "She was a great bot."

"Aye, aye," Jazz cleared his throat in a weird transformer way that was equivalent to him trilling like an opera singer for all but a brief moment. "C'mon, bots, Jetfire's due any minute now!"

As if puppets on strings the other Autobots stepped back from the old runway, optics on the sky. Rodimus wilted against Maggy, who lifted him up and finally settled him on his shoulder along with Ravage.

In the far nights sky, a speck appeared. At first it was barely noticeable, if not for Jazz' cheerful indication towards it. It looked nothing more than a star. Then, as it came closer, the soft rumble of an engine shook the leaves. Soon a huge craft was visible, red and blue and yellow, in differentiating stripes. The space shuttle came to a quick stop by the runway and transformed.

The mech was around Sideswipe's height, short stubby wings perched on his back as he grinned at them. His head was particularly squarish, dull grey lips reminding Rodimus of the colour Arcee had went. The Autobot was a seeming mishmash of colours. One hand was completely red whilst the other was a stark yellow.

Rodimus wondered how he managed to stay hidden with a paint job so vibrant before realising that was probably a reason for why he stayed up in space. Up there, away from this hell.

"Great to see everybot again!" Grinned the space shuttle. "Now who's coming up with me?"

Bumblebee beeped excitedly and got a cheery laugh from the bot. "Okay, one!" There was a moment of silence and Jetfire wilted a tad. "You all know I need at least two. What happened Arcee? Wasn't she coming? And where's the big bot?"

"Prime's on the low t'stay outta the human's radars. 'Cee's offlined."

"Frag, bots," Jetfire frowned. "I'm sorry but you all know the rules."

"Righ'," Jazz nodded towards the group at large. "Who wants ta go?"

"No disrespect intended, sir," Sideswipe started, "but I think you should, Jazz."

The visored bot opened and closed his mouth. "Oh."

"Not in a bad way," Crosshairs hurried to clear up. "It's just..."

"You deserve a break," Sam said. "You've been here since the beginning and you're always talking about Prowl. You should go."

"Take a breather for a deca-vorn," Magnus said, joining their rank pulling. "And then you can return and beat the scrap out of any bot you see fit."

Jazz shifted. "Well, then. Seems Ah've been chosen anyways, 'Fire."

"Suits me all too well," chirped the shuttle. "I just hope you're better passengers than Ratchet."

"O' 'course Ah am," Jazz chuckled. "Can't toot fer 'Bee though."

It took a matter of minutes for the bots to say their goodbyes and depart in Jetfire. Rodimus sat there the whole time, up on Maggy's shoulder, feeling just a tad abandoned.

"What should we do now?" Sideswipe questioned.

"I'd like a shower," Sam said. "So what about some motel? Pretty sure we passed a place a few miles back."

"Sounds good," Rodimus joined when the other bots contemplated it. "A bed for a night would be nice."

It was agreed that Sideswipe was to be on patrol — something which the red mech was more than happy about — and so was not to enter the motel but merely drive around it and the small town they'd ended up in a few miles out of Tallahassee.

The motel, _Jen's Rooms,_ was one of those branch out complexes that had one single floor and rooms that were sort of dorm styled. Maybe the place had been an old school at some point, but the C-shaped block with a dense wooded forest behind it seemed very old. It was a few cobwebs and blood splatters away from being creepy.

Rodimus accompanied Maggy inside to get the room. They'd decided on only one room with two beds, seeing as the transformers could sleep anywhere and they wanted to take a night out in the parking lot in front of the doors that lined the insides of the C.

It smelled odd inside the small crampt reception area, like oubergune and cinammon. They were lucky that there was a woman hunched in the back, seeing as it was long past three am, but she was there and nonetheless gave them an untrusting squint each.

"A single room?" She haggled, voice dry as the Sahara desert. "Two beds or one?"

"Two beds," Magnus replied, tone strong and baritone thick. The woman visibly sneered at him before demanding the money and shooing them out with orders to return the keys before twelve tomorrow — or was it technically _today?_ — and to speak to her if they wanted a prolonged stay come morning.

They were ushered out the door, a jangly, single, red spray-painted key chucked at their heads before the ancient door slammed shut behind them. The creepy woman leered at them the whole way to the corner, where they were out of her line of sight.

Room 36 was at the very end of the C. Crosshairs was particularly pleased about this as it meant he was able to park right beside it in some twisted heap of parking spaces. Fair to say, their jumble of a green corvette, a red lambo, a black and blue bugatti and a dark green jeep was an odd sight. The bots did well to hide around the back of the buildings with Sideswipe departing as soon as their location was confirmed.

Maggy jiggled the key into the lock because Rodimus refused to touch it. The small blue door with big clunky golden numbers on it slopped open, banging gently off the wall.

First impression was _it's alright._ They'd entered a sort of lounge area right off the bat, with some tiny tv in the corner that was hooked up to a DVD player (thankfully with a rack of movies beside it, although it was near bare) and two moderately clean looking couches sitting in front of it.

There was two doors; one to the left and one to the right. The left one sprawled into a shunted kitchenette with a single square table. A refrigerator sat desolate in the corner, an odd brown colour. There was a basin of a sink with ugly beige cupboards under it, some sort of plastered countertops following along the length of the wall. Their covers were peeling and the room was awfully tiny but Rodimus didn't care too much, seeing as they wouldn't be using the kitchen at all.

To the far right corner of the room was a looming brown door that led into the bedroom, with a gaudy window leaning over one bed's side. The beds were clean enough, clean bedding laying folded on the pillows. Rodimus deemed it acceptable and dumped his little overnight bag on one bed as Sam claimed the other. There was a door in the corner that opened into a lime green bathroom, complete with a bath, a tiny toilet and sink.

All in all, by description it sounded huge but by appearance it was tiny and barely bigger than a caravan's living space. This fact, surprisingly, did not irritate Rodimus, for he found himself far too hyped up after Jetfire's take off and his over-consumption of PiM's orange cakes.

"Who wants ice cream?" Crosshairs yelled. Rodimus left Sam in the bedroom, abandoning the other human to his own means as he re-entered the lounge room and found the green haired holo clutching a tub of chocolate ice cream. His smile was bright and huge; refreshing to see after spending three days rethinking every second of Arcee's death.

"How old is that?" Hound teased.

"Not that old," Crosshair's brow scrunched. "It's out of date in three years. I think it should be okay."

"Maybe," Rodimus shrugged. "If it doesn't kill us it might be good along with a few of these movies."

"Because the Bee movie is so entertaining." Drift motioned towards the rack and the very poor choice range.

"Terminator's good," Rodimus salvaged, dropping onto the couch and pulling Maggy down with him. "Cross you get the ice cream dished into bowls. Drift push the dvd into the player."

Crosshairs took being ordered around good naturedly and pranced off to get the snacks ready, Hound in tow.

Sam popped into the room. "I think I'll get a bath, guys."

"Okay," Rodimus waved to him. "Don't blind yourself with all the green."

His laugh sounded odd but he disappeared with a cheery, "I'll try not to."

Crosshairs and Hound re-emerged from the tiny kitchenette just as Drift figured out the complexities of the DVD player and finally got it working. He slipped in the first Terminator movie as the paratrooper and tracker handed out the bowls.

"Where's Sam?" Cross asked, extra bowl held aloft in his hand.

"Gettin' a bath," Roddy said, half buried in Maggy's side as he sucked at his ice cream. It tasted good.

"Oh well," shrugged the bot, toppling down beside Rodimus. "More for me."

They were finished with the Terminator and moving to select the second pick of the night when Rodimus' bladder demanded to be emptied. He excused himself, quickly picking up all the bowls and dumping them in the basin sink before making his way to the bathroom.

The bedroom was empty, bathroom door closed.

Now that he thought on it, Sam had said he was going for a bath a while ago. Almost an hour.

"Sam?" Rodimus called, knocking twice in quick succession on the small bathroom door. "You in there?"

A choked sound reached Rodimus' ears. He panicked, remembering his brother's last moments all too well as he slammed the door open.

Sam's clouded, misty eyes rolled towards him, bath water red. Rodimus gaped as fresh blood drooled down the other's arm, painting his fingers and the floor from where his left arm hung at a slant over the bath's edge.

He wavered in the doorway, world spinning around him. "Sam," he managed. The man looked at him and frowned, a deep angry twist that made Roddy's gut plummet and burn. Sam's eyes slipped shut but Rodimus couldn't move, jarred in place by the shock. "Sam?"

No response. Knowing he was running on borrowed time, Rodimus shouted before his throat could close up. Even to his own ears he sounded shrill. Panicked. "Ultra Magnus!"

Magnus was at his side a moment later, unadultered worry crossing his face as he grabbed his wrist to ease him out of the doorway. He offered the man in the bath a glance before pulling Rodimus into a hug. When Roddy's legs gave out they moved to the floor, Maggy holding his head over his knees as Rodimus fought for breath.

At some point Hound had appeared. Now the tracker was crouched by Sam - Rodimus could see that much out of the corner of his eye, but thankfully nothing else of Samuel other than his painted arm. "Gone," declared the bot, shaking his head as he stood. "'Bee won't be happy to hear about this."

"Selfish bastard," announced Crosshairs from the doorway into the lounge. The paratrooper sounded angry and through the corner of his eye Rodimus seen Drift shoot him an unimpressed look. "You okay, Roddy?"

He mustered up a nod, swallowing thickly as Maggy's hand ran through his hair. A headache was setting in, plummeting his mood even more as old memories resurfaced of his second oldest brother; another man gone too soon.

"Yeah," assured Rodimus. "Yeah, just shaken."

"A'ight." Satisfied that the only remaining human of the group wasn't going to drop, Crosshairs swerved into the room and joined Hound in the bathroom. The pair mutely shared a glance before Crosshairs scurried off to the lounge in a flurry of green. Rodimus' head hurt.

Magnus was beside him still, unmoving from his earlier position, crouched by his side. It made him feel better - the very reassurance that someone was there for him - but it did little for the reminder that there was another friend dead in a bathtub not five meters away.

"How about we go sit on the couch, hm, sweetspark?" Maggy suggested, Drift offering a blanket from the bed that Rodimus was promptly wrapped in. He wasn't cold but he was shivering. Weird. "You can pick the film this time."

Maggy's final sentence sounded more like a question than anything and it seemed to ring out in the silence as Crosshairs returned with a bin liner and an armful of bleach products. Rodimus wondered where he'd gotten them from (probably from that dodgy looking beige cupboard under the sink) but found he didn't quite care. He answered the question that wasn't a question with a slow murmur. "Yeah."

"Alright," Magnus coached him up out of his emergency panic sprawl and resorted to a straddling carry when Rodims' legs couldn't hold their own atop the vinyl flooring. Hound and Crosshairs were silent in the bathroom. Drift hovered in the doorway to the lounge, obediently retreating out of the way as Magnus came forth.

The samurai vanished and dimly Rodimus heard him ask, "Need some help?" Probably offering Cross and Hound a hand. He snickered at a stray thought; Drift offering a hand to clean a hand; but sobered almost insantly as he realised how inappropriate that was.

Sam was dead. He should be mourning him, or at least being curteous to his memory. Not sitting in the lounge giggling like some schoolgirl at the thought of his death.

"Anything you want?" Maggy whispered softly. Rodimus had curled into his chest at some point, some random movie on the boxplayer that he didn't recall selecting.

_I want Sam to not be dead._

He hesitated. He wanted PiM's but that would mean Maggy would have to get up because they were in his alt. Maggy was warm and sturdy; the literal metaphorical rock in a storm. Except, Rodimus wasn't sure rocks were warm in storms but he was sure if rocks were energon-charged sentient beings that came from a far off metal world they would be.

He felt queasy. He wanted Ravage to cuddle with. He needed a few PiM's. "PiM's," he decreed.

"Of course," Magnus said, sticking an arm into his subspace (which was still kinda weird, seeing how half his arm just up and vanished). When he retrieved the appendage it came with a box of PiM's, likely sourced from his alt. Roddy watched, gawking at the fact that he could do that. "Here you are."

"Thank you," Rodimus murmured, voice sounding quiet even to himself. To his credit, Magnus only held him tighter, tucking the thin blanket around him even more and then grabbing his elsa fluffball through his subspace mods when the motel's cotton proved to be too cheap.

"Hey, uh," Crosshairs strode into the room but stalled out before he transcended past the door. He looked stiff, shoulders forming a sharp point either side of him under his stylish green trench coat. "We're gonna pay our respects, y'all wanna join?"

Maggy looked to Rodimus for confirmation, inhumane blue eyes so full of emotion it would take a therapist years to sort through them. Rodimus, feeling uneasy, agreed.

And that was how they found themselves standing outside the motel, in the woods that surrounded it actually, saying goodbye to a burning body in an oil barrel.

They'd called Sideswipe back and now here they were, standing in a silent circle around the barrel. Hound was mumbling some old chant, something he claimed to help the boy pass on better. A prayer to Primus.

Rodimus thought it was a little too late for prayers. When Crosshairs softly explained the rite of burning and the sacrifice that needed to be offered, be it a physical object or mental condolence, he was more than happy to oblige.

Crosshairs grabbed a few stones and dropped them into the barrel. "To keep your memory upon the world which you protected," he explained as he dropped his three rocks in one by one. "Accept the stone of the land; my offering."

"Take and accept the wind which curls the flame," Drift said, taking one long, deep bow. "The element that keeps life thrumming through the veins of your people."

Maggy dropped a low-grade bullet into the barrel. He spoke quietly but with an unmistakable gravel to his tone that carried into the trees. "I offer a bullet in thanks for the fights you have fought previously and won. Accept this offering in place of not just me but also our friends that could not be here with us tonight. We hope the Primes aid you in your death and the journey beyond."

Sideswipe offered a greasy rag to the hot fire. "I offer the shirt from so long ago. May its use bring you ease, sooth your worries and remind you of how we watch over all."

Rodimus spared Hound a glance and stepped forward when the tracker motioned for him to go ahead. He reached up, plucking a healthy leaf from a tree nearby and gently tossed it into the fire. Words tumbled out of him.

"May the leaf remind you of the beauty of life and may that beauty be presented in death. May the green remind your soul of its peace and have calm bestowed upon your heart when reborn. Take my offering, the sacrifice of a tree's bearings, and traverse the lands with the knowledge that you are watched over by mother nature herself."

He stepped back into Magnus' arms to let Hound give his offering.

"May Primus watch over you, our warrior," he spoke confidently, solemn as he unsubspaced what looked like a intricate almost circular cross and tossed it into the fire. "I grant wisdom with my gift, giving you the power of watchfulness in your after. I hope the Primes watch over you, with Primus himself taking your guidance to his core. I speak to the soul of Samuel Witwicky and speak truthfully when I say I wish you well. Enjoy the virtues and take each word and offering of ours to heart, then Primus will trust."

The Cybertronians spoke as one. "May Prime's light guide you in your darkest hour."

"Amen," Rodimus added.

The barrel burned on.

Ravage returned some hours later, after Cross and Hound had cleaned up and they'd all fallen into the lounge to gaze at the tv screen. She took one sniff of the air and let out a soft hiss. Rodimus must've looked a state for when he held out his arms in a part invitation, part demand for her to lie with him she did so without any complaint. The sharp buzz in his ears told him of the quick debrief Maggy and Rav held.

Silently he scratched behind her ears and accepted her nuzzling snout that offered comfort.

Hound woke with a start, holoform's optics opening to find Crosshairs lying atop him. They were in the motel room, sun's dim rays peaking in through the window by their heads. Rodimus, the sweetling, was curled up in his blanket in Ultra Magnus' arms on the bed over. The sight reminded him of last night's atrocity and made his fuel tanks churn.

Samuel was dead, gone before his time in a cruel twist of fate that had been anything but expected. The fresh memory was bittersweet, a cold reminder of Crosshairs folding in on himself, anguish flooding the bond as he struggled to comprehend another loss. Hound had staggered himself, frozen by shock at the very revelation of _death is here._

Beside him, Cross stirred, Autobot-dialect Cybertronian slipping past those plush lips. His conjunx endura settled at a reassuring hand to the back of his neck. With one half of his being now reassured, Hound pulled Crosshairs close, breathing in the soft scent of tobacco and grass.

On the bed over, Ultra Magnus raised his head. The large holo had folded around his little human, the Commander's grip strong and sure as he hugged Rodimus. Hound glanced up and made eye contact, keeping his hold on Cross as he snuffled.

With Rodimus curled under him Ultra Magnus could do little in the way of movement, lest he wake the poor thing. Hound was wary of such, and judging from Mags' soft lulling titter the bigger 'bot was loathe to wake the human as well.

**:How long have you been awake?:** Ultra Magnus pinged him. The sun shining through the window settled on Rodimus' back, bouncing up into his fellow Autobot's eyes to make them glow in reminiscence of the fire that had passed Sam on.

Hound wished they had Arcee's frame, to do the same for her -fire rituals were sacred amongst their people, after all- but luck was not on their side. He hadn't even seen Sam's death coming, no sign, no tossing fuel tank or chirping pump; it had just _happened._

Crosshairs had barely spoken a word after his offering - those words alone being sharp and to the point, blunted by his grief. Hound knew he'd have to run damage control around his other half for a little while, either while he got over the loss or until the others became used to his biting sarcasm. He'd began with the remarks last night, saying a few Hound knew Drift had not been impressed by.

Ultra Magnus would've told him off for them, but Hound had a feeling the bigger 'bot had been a bit too preoccupied with his little human.

And what an oddity. Hound never had thought of seeing Mags' ever again, nor had he even toyed with the line of code that they'd meet him on _earth_ with a _human_ companion. And a human companion Rodimus was — not in the _pet_ way either. No; Ultra Magnus treated that little spark with a face like nothing else Hound had seen or expected from him, Tyrest's Accuser.

Hound had never expected to see an _in-love_ Ultra Magnus but he supposed the universe always had plans.

He realised he'd taken to braiding Cross' hair, having ignored his commanding officer's comm. **:Sorry, not long. I was thinking about taking a detour towards a local fair today? It may help with the lingering negativity.:**

**:We'll go:** nodded Magnus.** :If everybot is in agreement. Or, at most, the majority.:**

**:Sounds good:** Sideswipe chimed in, appearing in the doorway. His holo's red hair glowed to match Magnus' holo-human eyes. The frontliner's grin was contagious. **:I'd love to check out the competition.:**

**:Come off it, 'Sides:** Crosshairs joined, stretching in Hound's arms. The green haired holo rolled forwards, evidently tired, into Hound's chest. **:We all know I'm the prettier one here.:**

Sideswipe was still grinning. **:That's only because Jazz named you his second, an' Jazz ain't here.:**

**:Even then, Crosshairs is hard pressed against you:** teased Drift. Hound flexed out his sensors and felt the 'bot's holo moving about in the lounge.

**:Obviously!:** Sideswipe laughed along the comm, holo merely twitching with the action. The disassociated sound with the lack of movement would've been weird for any human but for war-torn 'bots such as themselves laughing without movement had long become the norm.

Ravage swirled into the room, long tail loosely clutching at Sides' shin as she passed. Sideswipe tensed for all of a second at the contact before easing back into his perfectly crafted laid-back posture.

**:Ravage:** Ultra Magnus warned.

The large panther huffed out a breath as she curled along Rodimus' back. She nuzzled the sleeping human and was rewarded with a sleepy grab, which resulted in some of the blanket sashaying over her sleek frame.

**:Apologies:** she hummed, clearly too busy with the task of making Rodimus roll out of Ultra Magnus' arms to care too much about how she sounded. Although she probably didn't anyway, distraction or not.

At the silently perceived threat, Magnus offered the 'Con a meaningful eyebrow raise and pulled a pliant Rodimus further into his chest. This behaviour continued for the betterment of five minutes, with even Crosshairs turning around to smirk at them.

Hound, quite honestly, found it endearing.

Just as his endura rose to his feet, ready to search for the leftover ice cream (if Sideswipe hadn't gotten peckish in the early hours of his return), Rodimus woke. It was most spectacular to watch; a single hand shooting out of the cocoon of blankets to slap Magnus' cheek and then push a laughing Ravage off the bed.

Very suddenly nobot could hear over the yowls of an irate panther. Ultra Magnus just looked dazed, a big red handprint peeking through.

Sideswipe burst into action accompanied laughter and was met with the challenge of having to outrun a furious cassette. Crosshairs ended up on Hound's lap from the commotion, the tracker having to catch his other half before he hit the ground. Drift had resorted to quoting calming quotes over the comm, probably hopeful that the two wouldn't wreck the lounge in their chase.

On the other bed, Rodimus groaned at the noise and curled in on himself. "Fuck," he muttered, nothing but a shock of pink hair visible past the blankets. He spoke with a moan, pulling out the final consonant in Magnus' name. "Maggy."

"Yes, sweetspark?" Magnus dipped down into those blankets to offer a kiss. Crosshairs pinged something suggestible over their mindlink and suddenly Hound had to look away.

Standing, he shoved Cross towards the door. _Come on,_ he urged._ Leave them be._

His green haired trooper floundered._ But I need a piss._

_Take one outside,_ he nullified, dragging Crosshairs out of the room as Magnus' hands started to stray. Choking at what he was seeing, Crosshairs offered no further resistance, instead kicking forward to pull them out of the room quicker.


	8. A Dull Sun's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mother was dead. Who was there to stop him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one today but don't worry, it's building up for big tea!!

Almost an hour later, Ultra Magnus and the human returned from the bedroom. They'd been awfully silent, enough so that even Drift's finely-tuned audials heard next to nothing. Although, at their appearances it was evident they'd been up to more than recharge.

"How are you, Rodimus?" Hound asked, cheerily offering a bowl of oatmeal to the human. Rodimus accepted it with a small smile, murmuring a soft goad towards Ravage as he sat down on the seating arrangement.

"Peachy," said the human. Drift spared him a glance, still unsure at all these human terms. Sam had said a lot of unusual things but had not expanded on their concepts at prompting. Rodimus caught his optic and continued, "Means I'm okay."

"Ah," he intoned. "I was worried over your apparent fruit-like tendencies."

The sides of Rodimus' eyes creased in silent laughter as the human curled a finger behind Ravage's audial flaps. Ultra Magnus settled down beside him after wandering into the kitchen. Their Decepticon friend growled at him and Ultra Magnus glared back. They both stopped at Rodimus' sigh, both looking away in something Drift briefly recognised as shame.

"So," the only human now said. "Heard we're going down to a fair?"

"Yep," Sideswipe said, unnerving in how he bounced over and grinned. There was something about his eyes that made Drift want to stay far away from him. Very, _very _far away. "Down by the edge of Georgia; a cute little country fair."

Crosshairs perked up. "That mean there's gonna be guns?"

"Only human ones," Sideswipe shrugged, sitting on the heel of the seat. "They're no good for us but maybe we could entice Roddy into wielding?"

Rodimus didn't seem too interested in the conversation at servo, shrugging as he munched on his oatmeal. Sideswipe continued, unfazed.

"Great! What time are we heading out, Mister Magnus sir?"

The jestful tone was clear. Ultra Magnus scowled, "Right," he mused. "I have to deal with you lot now."

"They're not that bad, Maggy," Rodimus noted.

"We're really not!" Sideswipe nodded enthusiastically, grinning at the human. "I swear on all things sugary and sweet, I'll be on my best behaviour!"

Ultra Magnus rolled his human optics. "We'll set out in an hour. Do we have a prevailing wish to return here?"

"No," Rodimus said before any of them could speak. He sounded forced, tone hard, gaze stuck on his bowl as he softly chomped at his breakfast. After a lengthy pause, he continued, tone a tad lighter. "If you guys are staying here you need to think about a safeplace."

"You mean a base?" Crosshairs asked.

Rodimus nodded, "Of sorts. It's just, if y'all are staying, y'all need somewhere to hang low. Plus, dunno if y'all realised but there's a huge military base a few hundred miles away. That's kinda risky."

"I do risky for my starter," Sideswipe cackled. "And we've done well without a base so far. We don't need to get our panties in a twist because of that now, do we?"

Rodimus seemed put off; irritated, by Sideswipe's abrasiveness. Hound stepped in to mediate.

"Listen, it's a good idea, 'Sides. Whenever we get to that milestone we'll cross it then. Why don't we get to that fair before the traffic picks up?"

The traffic never did _pick up._ Sideswipe noted this with a huff as they pulled into the lot of the school. Out on it's football fields they had tents pitched, stalls everywhere selling everything from belgium chocolates to guns. As a sentient Autonomous Cybertronian Sideswipe wasn't too well versed on the humans' gun laws in this state but no police had shown up yet so that was probably a sign all was well.

It was a colourful sight, with many people filling the greenery and a few acts making a lot of noise. There was a band somewhere off to the left, big wooden planks set up for their gear. A man sat on the frontmost plank, visible even from the parking lot. He strummed his guitar, murmuring words that most of the humans didn't seem to appreciate.

"We'll reconvene here in a quarter of a joor," Ultra Magnus informed them. Basically Sides had two human hours to do whatever he wanted.

Their acting commander pranced off with his human whilst Crosshairs dragged Hound off to do Primus knows what. That left him and Drift.

"So," he started.

"I'll see you later," Drift said, already gone.

Sideswipe stood alone. "Fragging glitched aft."

It was times like this he missed Sunny; reached for that glowing ball of sunshine that was his twin, always standing beside him, always there. There was a gaping feeling in his spark — the distant need for a merge.

_It's alright, _twisted the bond. _I'm still here._

Sideswipe closed his eyes and swore he could feel Sunstreaker beside him. The air felt warmer, the humidity no longer affecting him as he breathed it in. His alt mode felt like it was tingling, armoured plates buzzing with life as his twin fed him calming bubbles of reassurance.

When he opened his eyes again he was in front of the singing human. Sideswipe watched, silently relaying it all back to Sunstreaker up in space. The human thumbed his guitar, blackened hands picking up the perfect rhythm as his guttural voice groaned out his tune.

_Avossteans_ popped into Sides' processor, the ancient language of the organic fourteen legged creatures making itself reminded. Sunny thought the human's singing sounded like their language and Sideswipe had to agree.

"Gaelic," grunted the old man, sounding so much like Ironhide it hurt. "Near nobody speaks it no more but I'm here so I'll sing it."

Sideswipe looked up, meeting the old organic's eyes. The violent green of them stood out amidst the wrinkles and his frail white beard. His bald head gleamed in the sunlight. He grinned and beckoned him forth.

"You gotta special someone I can pray for? If I sing it the leprechauns'll watch over him."

"I don't think there's leprechauns up in space," Sideswipe smiled. Sunstreaker sent a fluttering feeling of amusement.

"Oho, a spaceman, eh? 'Course there's leprechauns up there! They're everywhere," said the old man. "Jus' watch out for 'em banshees, once you hear their cry you ain't going nowhere without a loss."

And just like that, as quick as the man had stopped singing, he started once again. Sunstreaker was finding this funny, asking if he'd made a new friend.

_Shut it,_ he hollered. _Like you haven't tried to offline somebot again._

Sunstreaker retreated, mirth lining his path. Very suddenly, Sideswipe felt lonely.

He scooped through his subspace-joined pockets for some human money he'd picked up along the way and threw a few bills into the man's case. The old coot grinned and winked at him as he left.

Sideswipe tried his best to shake the foreboding feeling that had settled into his circuits.

Ultra Magnus was pleased when it came time to rendezvous. Rodimus looked pleased enough, having obtained a plush teddy bear and a mountain of chocolate. He'd talked Magnus into buying a jar of instant cocoa and had depicted the detailed plan of them staying in a motel and drinking it.

They regrouped, Sideswipe chucking a green frog air freshener at Crosshairs with a chirpy, "It reminded me of you!"

Crosshairs seemed none too pleased but the interaction gained a small giggle from Rodimus — more than Ultra Magnus himself had drawn out all afternoon — so he let it pass. He also understood the need for banter in a war.

Earth was making him soft.

"Where to now?" Chittered Crosshairs.

Sideswipe added, "If we're going down, I heard there's a good motel with balconies and a pool a few hundred yards over."

"Oh, a balcony," admired Rodimus. Ultra Magnus supposed the decision was already made.

Everything felt _off._

"You've been quiet. Everything alright, Rodimus?" Maggy had asked earlier, at the fair. Rodimus had barely murmured a response, too busy faking interest in a little stuffed bear that Maggy had all too happily bought him.

Now that stuffed bear sat on the railing beside him, watching him with its purple fluff and haunting gem eyes as Rodimus stared out over the balcony. He felt clammy, as if the world had slowed around him; gotten lazy, dropping to a near crawl. He wondered if he looked as dull as his Mother had when she'd taken to staring numbly at her sewing.

"'Ey," Crosshairs voice came from the side as the glass door opened and closed, subjecting Rodimus to a brief preview of the noise inside. "Thought you didn't brood, kid?"

"I'm not," Rodimus looked away, happening to look right into the eyes of his bear. The black beads reflected Crosshairs coming to stand beside him, scooping about in his subspace for something.

"Sure you ain't," Crosshairs appeased. He offered a cigarrette from his pack, lid peeled back like Rodimus had seen from the movies. He'd never smoked before but figured if he hung about with these guys cancer would be the least of his worries.

He accepted the cigarette, grateful for Crosshair's straying lighter a moment later. The tobacco scraped at his throat, dragging and pinching at his tastebuds. His throat's celliated epithelium cells probably hated this but deep down inside he liked it.

Father had smoked. Mother had always said it was a dirty habit, never allowing him to touch the rolled up splints whilst she was alive.

Rodimus stood there, leaning on the railing. Mother was dead. Who was there to stop him? He took another drag.

"Virginia Falls," Crosshairs smirked, brandishing the red and white packet. "Best ones out there for when you need a lift. Metaphorically speaking."

He hummed. The sun was setting, low tones of pink and blue spreading over the sky. The burning ball of fire seemed orange now, a bright stark thing that burned his memories away along with the cigarette in his fingers. With a tap the burning embers fell away, fluttering down like a dead moth to evaporate with the wind. Beside him Crosshairs rested his chin on his palm, careful not to stab out his eye with the cigarette's butt.

"Wanna talk now?" He asked, tone soft. There was something in his eyes, so clear that even at the angle Rodimus held himself from the other he could still see the glint from the corner of his eyes. The green hair seemed misplaced amongst that gleam, the usual smile was gone from his lips, nothing more than a saddened frown.

Rodimus supposed people liked to act during the day, then during the night those façades fell away, their energies expended. The thought made his stomach flip-flop, ears thrumming sharply like the click of a lighter. With a blink he realised Crosshairs was indeed thumbing his lighter, the flame reaching up only to be cut off. It was almost hypnotic, if only the cruel demise wasn't reminding Rodimus of a darker time.

"Stop that," he said, tone harsher than intended. Surprise flitted over Cross' face, the lighter snapping shut one final time. The bot's eyes hardened and something reminded Rodimus of Sideswipe's earlier face.

"Why do none of you want somewhere safe?" He asked.

Crosshairs hesitated. He switched his gaze from the lighter to Rodimus, to the lighter again — a silent debate — and then to the falling sun as he subspaced the little firemaking device. "It's not how you think it is. It ain't like we don't _want_ a base it's just..."

He trailed off. Rodimus waited.

"Gettin' a base is like sayin' we're staying. A lotta bots don't wanna stay, not after what the humans have done. Cemetery Wind and— and Lockdown."

"Do you?" Rodimus asked finally. "Do you want to stay?"

"I don't know," Crosshairs responded truthfully. "I know that Jazz would love to stay up with the others, 'Bee maybe too once he finds out about Sammy. But the others? Drift's too hard to read but I know Sides' has his twin up with the others. He's a hair's inch away from goin' up with Jetfire the next time he comes down."

"He has a twin?"

"Yup. Big smug yellow aft, he is. They're split sparks, meanin' they share a spark."

"Like half and half?"

Crosshairs twinkled a smile. "Yeah. Like that chinese dish. The two sure act like one."

"You've had chinese?"

"Sam liked it."

"Ah."

The silence settled. Rodimus twitched, "If you had to leave, would you?"

Crosshairs didn't hesitate this time. "Yes. Now don't get me wrong, it's not like we could anyways, with Cybertron dark—"

"Dark?" He knew their world was the equivalent of dead, from Maggy's stories, but _dark_ was a new term.

"She's nearly gone," Cross muttered. "Just a few vorn away from falling too far. Right now there's only a few bots on her but if we went back we'd drain Cybertron's resources too fast. Then she really would fade."

So they'd go back but their world was on its last legs. He felt compelled to ask more.

"How would y'all fix her?"

"Dunno," Crosshairs shrugged, sucking on his cigarette. The smoke wafted up, curling in the wind. It painted a solemn picture, reflecting in his eyes. "Maybe if Percy's hit a revelation we could do something but right now Wheeljack's gone."

"Wheeljack?"

"One of the smartest bots to ever online. He's offlined now, sure, but he was the greatest 'mad scientist' of our lot."

"Couldn't you guys ask Soundwave or someone?"

Crosshairs froze like he'd cursed his mother out in front of him.

"A decepticon? One of those greasy boltheads? There's a few things you don't do in war, Rodimus, and running to the enemy for _hel__p _is one of them!"

"But—" he tried.

He was cut off. "Nah, kid, we've been at war for millions of years–" a finger jabbed into his chest. "That's longer than you or your ancestors have been alive, we don't need any help from your kind, _got it?_"

Rodimus felt the anger bubble, so forceful that it illuminated his heart and made his blood pump quicker. He felt alive now, breath coming short. Crosshairs glowered down at him, opened his mouth to say more but he'd had enough.

He kicked forward, knee swinging up to meet Crosshairs' private parts. The bot choked, doubling over as he dropped his half-burnt cigarette. Rodimus felt the frown pull at him, dropping his own cigarette beside the bots' and stomping down on it. Crosshairs winced, having toppled to his knees.

In a twist of violence, Rodimus flicked the bot's forehead. Crosshairs' blue eyes stared up at him.

"I may be human," he said. "But that's no reason for you to forget your manners."

He stormed inside, bypassing a very shocked looking group of illegal alien robots with a dying world a few million lightyears away.

"Y'know, Utah's a good place to brood," he shouted.

The bots were quiet.


	9. A Bright New Sun's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the gang gets back together.

It had been six months since he'd last seen his Autobots, three months since he'd last seen anything of Cemetery Wind. Optimus was still recovering from their last fight where a launcher had gotten lucky and one of those glitched energy blasts had nearly put him down for the count.

If it hadn't have been for the strategic placing of that canal where they'd attacked him, Optimus may not be online now.

He'd taken refuge in an old cinema, amongst the ornate ripped out seats and small side addition cafe that had a special coffee machine that still worked and had kept him up and running when in holoform. The Matrix had been quiet as of late, a sure sign that nobot had died recently and that had served to comfort him in the dark dust of the theatre.

Maybe he'd grown complacent in amongst the dust but when he found himself being dragged out of there by a human — _Cade Yeager, Chief Inventor for Joyce Industries, Humanitarian, Climate Activist _— it was a shock to the systems to find himself being dropped off in a barn in the middle of Texas.

It was either the bullet holes that riddled his doors or the old truck he'd scanned (Optimus was willing to assume them both, although the later was most likely the deciding factor) that had drawn in the human. In the end, it did not matter. The man patched him up, repainted along his dulled lines and spoke to him on the regular basis he was in the workshop.

Yeager was a man blessed by luck. According to his stories he'd been close to losing his home when he'd ran into billionaire Joshua Joyce at a mall. Somehow they'd ended up talking and Joyce had hired him as an inventor for Joyce Industries. Now the man was Chief Inventor (and Head Of Staff) and he hadn't looked back.

Yeager had a daughter, Tessa, and a late-wife, Clara. He was great friends with Joyce, often video calling him. Cade Yeager was a thorough believer that all Transformers should be put down; swept up in the propaganda of Cemetery Wind.

That was all there was to know. Or, at least, all that Optimus had managed to gather whilst sitting in his barn for a whole three months.

It was when he was inches away from being finished, self-repair systems demanding more energon, did he finally leave. The exit was clean, his swift movement onto the road as stealthy as ever. On the highway he quickly scanned a Peterbilt and delved into the Matrix.

His Autobots were in Utah, residing in a scrapyard in the middle of nearly nowhere. Optimus gunned it there.

What he came across was unusual.

Turrets aimed at him when he neared the secluded scrapyard fence line. Big, heavy duty ones that nobot other than his mechs could've made in such a short time. It was impressive and would've been moreso had they not readily charged themselves to fire at him.

A sharp whistle pierced the air and the turrets depowered, sinking down back into their reclusive piles of scrap and junk that kept them hidden from prying eyes. Optimus pulled up outside the gate, getting a clear view of Rodimus standing with Hound as the latter built something.

"Look who it is," the human said, staring at him. "Optimus Prime."

Hound looked up, helm twisting to the side to look in the same direction at the main gate. The tracker blew out a breath through his vents and nodded respectfully. "Prime, good to see ya. We were beginning to think you'd been offlined."

Thanks to a movement from the tracker the gates wheeled open, allowing Optimus to trundle through. In the large open expanse of what could be called a courtyard, surrounded on all sides by scrap piles with a single automobile repair shop to the left, he transformed, stretching weary limbs for the first time in a while.

The scrapyard stretched for miles, almost portraying like a picture of the sea as the mountains of scrap and cars and junk swayed within the lines they'd created. Even up so high it looked intricate, as if the humans who'd built this had been forming a maze only they could navigate. The prospect of a bit of light-hearted fun — as the humans said — warmed his spark in joy.

"It is good to see you both again, Rodimus, Hound." He looked down to his Autobot. "Did you create the turrets? They're a work of art."

Hound shrugged, "Ain't nothing special, sir. Just us playin' around, right, Roddy?"

The human looked a little rough for wear, baggy boy shorts on along with a breathable purple tank top. His pinkish hair had grown, curling down into a low hanging pony tail that suited him explicitly. "Yep," he grinned, eyes twinkling their inhuman blue yet again. Although now they looked older, eyes holding a greater story than before. Optimus wondered what they'd done in six months to look so worn. "I'll get the others."

With that, he skipped away, navy flip-flops beating against the desolate dust. Alone now, Hound turned on him.

"We've begun taking in anybot who'll fight against CW, Prime, so there's a few 'Cons here. They won't attack but you bein' here might be a bit jarring for them." He joked, "Try not to scare them?"

Optimus processed that. "I did not think I was that scary," he jested in turn, before becoming serious. "Who do we have?"

"Cyclonus and a good three-quarters of the Constructicons. Soundwave sent down his little one, Ratbat, but can't return to earth without 'Screamer." Hound returned to tinkering with whatever it was that sat on the ground. It was squarish, reminding Optimus of the Allspark. His spark panged with regret. "As for 'bots, we've got everybot on base except for Sideswipe, Jazz and 'Bee — they're all out scouting for friendlies."

"We are all here then?" He asked, feeling relieved. The offlining of Arcee had been hard enough to deal with. He was glad nobot (or human) else had gone too—

"No. Sam's dead."

Optimus shuttered his optics. "Pardon?"

"Kid commited suicide not long after 'Bee went up to space," Hound shook his head in pity. "Poor thing near gave Roddy a spark-attack."

"Rodimus found him?" Optimus struggled to remain standing against the great sorrow that now filled him. Sam had seemed alright, last he'd seen him. What had went wrong? To lose a great man, just like that, was a shock.

"Yeah, poor kid could barely speak for a week after."

"Optimus Prime," a new voice said. They held a gravel to their tone that was a near growl. "I am honored to meet you off the battlefield."

Rodimus was back, sitting on a familiar purple and white mech's shoulder plate. Cyclonus' longsword was strapped on his back, pointed chin and helm held high. His purple faction insignia seemed to glow in the overhead sun's rays. The sight of a Decepticon paternizing with a human was an odd one.

"Cyclonus," Optimus greeted, offering a hand. The Decepticon stared at his hand for a millisecond before Rodimus nudged his neck cables. They shook hands for a brief few seconds. "It is good to see the two factions interacting outside of the battlefield."

"Indeed," the fourth-in-command for the Decepticons affirmed. Although, seeing as he was here the mech likely wasn't fourth anymore — that, or he was here on peaceful terms as a sign of the 'Cons truce.

An awkward silence was spared by the arrival of two of Devastator's combiners. Scavenger and Hook stopped a few feet short of Cyclonus' back, Scavenger reaching out to grab Rodimus. Circuits firing up at the sight of a Decepticon reaching for one of his own, Optimus tensed.

Rodimus merely grinned. Now situated on Scavenger's bulldozer cup chest, the human kicked his legs back and forth. It seemed Hook had more sense, shooting a scowl at his companion as he stayed by Cyclonus' side.

The little human sounded overjoyed. "Say hello to the Prime, guys!"

"Hello, Prime!" Scavenger repeated studiously. He offered a short jerky wave before returning his attention to Rodimus to poke him in the side. Optimus watched their interaction closely but only found the human to be amused.

When he looked over to Hook he found the Decepticon field medic watching him knowingly. "Prime," the mech said, remaining where he was; a sign he understood the paranoia of a war long fought.

Feeling pressured under his gaze, Optimus stared back, nodding. "Hook, Scavenger. It is good to be able to greet you both."

"You can thank Roddy 'ere for that!" Scavenger bounced, shifting Rodimus onto his feet.

From the direction behind the shop, Drift appeared. "Prime," the samurai bowed, stooping low. His hands clanged together in a honor clap. "It is good to see you once more, sensei."

"And you, Drift," Optimus smiled. Confident in the abilities and choices of his Autobots, he let his battlemask retract.

"How'd you get that, Optimus?" Rodimus spoke up.

Optimus looked at him, assuming correctly the human was referring to the short scar that cut through his left cheek and dragged down to his jaw. He let a servo trail the line, remembering the panic he'd felt at the posibility of dying in a field in nowhere Chicago. "I had a run-in with our friends, Cemetery Wind. They left their mark."

"I can see that, old friend," Ultra Magnus announced his arrival, striding forth to crush him in a mechly hug. "How have you been, otherwise?"

"Well," he confirmed. "I spent most of my time searching for you all."

Rodimus chittered out a noise and jumped out of Scavenger's dozer cup. Optimus twitched at the height he was falling but watched as the human rolled neatly, easily bounding along, flip-flops or not. Nobot else moved, indicating this action was more common than not. The pink haired human bounced his way over to Magnus, not even having to motion his wants before the great mech picked him up to set him on his shoulder. Level with him, eye to optic, Rodimus beamed at him.

Ratbat emerged from the shadows of the old auto-repair store. The little winged mech chittered and, at Magnus' movement, spurred forth to hang upside down on Ultra Magnus' arm plating. The Decepticon's red eyes narrowed at him.

Rodimus laughed, bending where he was to offer a twitching wave to the little cassetticon. "He likes you, OP." A glance was spared for their surroundings. "Where's Haul?"

"Here," Long Haul strode out from behind Optimus. The Prime tried to make it not look too obvious he was tracing the mech's movements. "I was on perimeter duty."

Optimus nodded to him in greeting. Long Haul frowned at him, holding out a servo to Rodimus.

"About time you returned, Prime," said the Decepticon. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd ran."

An uneasy silence settled, awkward in the way that nobot rose to defend him. Optimus stood there, Matrix pulsing at him in assurance. He was drawn to look to Rodimus as the human moved, standing to leap onto Long Haul's extended servo. The boy looked grim.

"Jazz should be back in an hour," he said, stepping about Long Haul's neck plating's edge like he was on a tightrope. He looped around Long Haul's entire neck, a hand bared out to steady himself against the Constructicon's neck cables. The Decepticon let hin proceed without so much as a scowl. "Heard he's found Scrapper."

The Constructicons around them seemed to swell with joy, Scavenger even smiling and clapping. Beside Cyclonus, Hook looked smug. Optimus was stuck with the sudden fear that once they reunited the Constructicons, Devastator would offline them all.

"It will be good to have a sane mech here," Cyclonus grunted. Nobot answered but Rodimus' sharp laugh proved what he thought of that sentiment.

"I'm bored," whined the human, after an indecipherable look shared with Ultra Magnus. Rodimus tugged at Long Haul's neck cables, sliding down his arm to jump the distance between him and Cyclonus like an acrobat. "Let's go see what's down by the eastern end!"

Cyclonus smirked at Optimus but nodded along with Rodimus, motioning for the Decepticons to follow him. "Alright then, little one. Do you wish to see what I found earlier?"

When they were out of audial range, Optimus turned to his mechs. "So," he started. "What's happened?"

Ultra Magnus and Hound shared a long glance. Ratbat chittered and swooped back into the shadow of the auto-repair shop.

"A lot, Prime," Hound said. "More than you'd think."

A week passed, a long tantalising week where Optimus fell into the rhythm his planet's last survivors had cultivated in their far-from-little base. It was calm and easy going, no doubt thanks to Rodimus' efforts to keep everyone entertained and calm. In the time Optimus had been back he had seen little of the sole human but the whisper of his laugh echoed all through the scrapyard.

Come the ninth hour of evening, they'd gathered around a campfire in the courtyard, the only sparse area of land within the scrapyard. With the sun lilting below the horizon, the deep summer being made known in the thick humidity that had Rodimus downsizing to tanktops and shorter shorts.

"I want marshmallows," harrumphed Scavenger.

"You need a holo," Rodimus grinned, tossing marshmallows to those who had holoforms. "Otherwise they'll just get stuck in your gears."

"You don't want them stuck in your gears, Scav," Hook repeated patiently.

"Think I care?" The Constructicon retorted. Crouched down in his bipedal mode, he made for quite the sight, especially amongst all the other holoformed Cybertronians. Everybot but Scavenger apparently had good use of the device. The mech reached out for Rodimus. "C'mon, Rod, gimme a marshmallow."

"Nope," Rodimus giggled, popping the consonant as he danced under the mech's grasp. Optimus fought with battle hardened processors to quash the protective twitch that demanded he move to intercept the servo, to defend the tiny, fragile human. There was no threat here, he reasoned, but couldn't quite stop the finger curl of lax fingers into a clenched fist. Beside him, Ultra Magnus nudged his side gently.

"No 'mallows for you," Rodimus made a show of giving everybot else a fluffy plush of goodness. Scavenger rocked back on his struts, batting at Long Haul as the mech snickered. The Constructicons' holos had a differentiating yellow and purple style, each with varying shades of the colours as hair. Scrapper was the only one who broke the pattern, his mop of black hair wild enough to have enticed Rodimus into braiding it.

Optimus sat back in his projected camp chair, surveying his group. Although they weren't quite his group anymore — and not just because they had Decepticons amongst their ranks.

Hound's beard was plaited, finished with a gleaming bronze knut that shone with the barrel's fire light as he shifted to pet Ravage. Crosshair's hair was short, gaze lingering as he munched on his marshmallow collection. Ultra Magnus seemed content to sit within the group and watch his human twirl around them all, quietly talking to Cyclonus. Sideswipe and Bumblebee had fallen into a vicarious game of go fish with Jazz, Scrapper and Hook. Long Haul had taken to prodding the fire in a barrel every now and then to ensure it burned through the selection of dead wood they'd gathered from around the 'yard.

"Crosshairs!" Cried Rodimus, aghast. The pink haired man scurried over to the green haired mech and shoved a sharpened branch into his hands. "Stop it! You're meant to roast them first!"

"Says who?" Demanded the paratrooper, dodging the sharp stick. Hound grabbed it before it could hit the ground and requisitioned it for his own use, spearing three of his own marshmallows upon it.

"Says me," pouted the human, turning briefly as Scavenger onlined his holoform with a hoot. "Marshmallows for Scavvy!"

"Hey!" Groaned the bulldozer as he settled into a camp chair. "That makes me sound weird!"

"It makes you sound savvy," snickered Jazz with a wink.

"Hmm," Scavenger stood, bowing a couple times in every direction. "Thank you, thank you, more of the savvy Scavvy Scavenger next week!"

Rodimus offered a lopsided smirk as he chucked a few more marshmallows at the mech — all three of which he caught in his mouth with a cheery grin.

The night wore on, the card game extending its reach until everyone was playing to varying levels of understanding. To Optimus' best knowledge the game had went from go fish to poker to blackjack. It was wholly possible he'd missed a few, thanks to Ratbat taking up perch on his chair and asking for an ear rub.

Eventually, the moon shone down on them, a thin cresent of silver light suspended high up in the dark night's sky. Chatter had died down in favour of some of the human's alcohol, a particularly strong crate of pilfered whiskey that had Optimus' circuits humming, if only slightly. Bumblebee had tapped out a few hours back and Rodimus was knocked out on Magnus' lap, legs kicked up on Crosshairs' knees.

Deciding he'd rather take a perimeter walk before allowing himself to drop into recharge, he stood. Nobot acknowledged him and he felt awkward interrupting their quiet conversations for something as mundane as saying _goodnight._

Optimus made it so far as the gate before footsteps followed him. He slowed, walking along the pathway that edged the entirety of the scrapyard's perimeter. The dust scuffed underboot, rising in the gentle breeze of night. Away from the fire he felt cold.

"Nice night for a stroll," Cyclonus said finally. With three large strides he was on par with him and they walked along the high layers of scrap as equals. "Wouldn't you agree, Prime?"

"Please," he said gently. "Call me Optimus."

"You're aware of how we're running on borrowed time then, _Optimus?"_

_All too well, _he thought. Pausing to shuffle a stray piece of metal back into its stack, he answered. "Aren't we all?"

Cyclonus didn't respond, holoform's tread light and near silent amongst the hollow breeze that rattled through the chunks of scrap around them. Optimus hadn't managed to garner why his 'bots had ended up in Utah of all places but he couldn't deny the quality of the location. There were no humans for miles around; the chances of Cemetery Wind showing up were even less.

"They never once thought you'd abandoned them," said the 'Con. "Even the little squishy. None of them even entertained the thought that you'd dropped and ran. How?"

"Trust is not something to be easily explained," he started.

Cyclonus interrupted with a scowl. "It wasn't trust, I'd know. I may be a Decepticon but I've seen trust, contrary to popular opinion. What I want to know is how you kept an army in form whilst running away. I want to know how _you_ managed to chase _us_ from Cybertron and then dared tell the organics it was the other way round."

The mech held no spite in his tone. No anger nor fear. He was curious, with honest questions posed from years of being within the tyranical Decepticon mainframe.

"My mecha know what to do if I don't come back," Optimus explained, glancing up to the sky. "But they know that if I don't come back, it's because I'm offlined."

"Took your sweet nanoclicks coming back then, didn't you?" Cyclonus snapped. "I don't think you understand, Optimus; if the Autobots fall on this mudball, what's to say for the 'Cons?"

He had no answer for him.

"We're nothing without your brother, Optimus. Once the Decepticons fought for freedom but the Senate pushed us too far and it's gotten us here, stuck on a shitty planet in some unnamed galaxy, lightyears from home, with our leader offlined in the ground. When Megatron went down thanks to the Fallen, so did the 'Cons. Starscream is off searching for some way to revive him without frying everybot's circuits and Soundwave is up playing sparkling-sitter! How is it fair that _you,_ an Autobot, can control so little yet have so much?"

"It is with little control comes great remedies," he said. "We only persevered because we needed to."

"And did we not?" Snarled the mech. "Did the Decepticons not need perseverance in the face of poverty and cruelty? Is this how you want to play, Optimus; toying the lines between brazen and cruel? We needed purpose just as much as your mecha did, but what did we get?"

Optimus knew this story well, for it was not as fairytale-ish as one would hope.

"Nothing!" Seethed Cyclonus, deep in a fit of righteous indignation. "We were given nothing, not ascendance by the almighty nor a beacon to light our darkest hours. By Primus' Chance, we're still in the _dark!_"

The Matrix whirred.

"I do not pretend to speak for Him," Optimus laid a heavy hand on the others' shoulder plates, careful of the dangerously sharp spikes aligning them. "But know it when I say he is fickle with gratitude. You fought for more than we could, but when it came down to it, were led astray."

"Like your 'bots weren't?" He was answered with a scoff. "Optimus, don't stand here and tell me your 'bots should get off free because we _all_ know they _shouldn't."_

"A wise mech once said _war is war_," Cyclonus continued. "_Until it goes too far. Then it is a massacre given alleged purpose._ What do you think of that, _Prime_?"

"I believe you've read a few of the tombs from the Great Gilantha Library."

Cyclonus stood, waiting for more. Optimus couldn't give him any.

Eventually, the rumblings of the loose scrap tumbling about the yard drew their attention away. Optimus stood, feeling lanky and wrong in ways he hadn't in eons. Cyclonus stood with fatigue seared into his faceplates, the emotion scorched so deep not even the low shadow of his helm could hide them from the prying optic.

Silently, he turned, fitfully accepting the fact he now had another worry. Cyclonus' voice stopped him.

"Know this," he mocked, before his tone turned stern and serious. "If you need help on this backwater planet, we _will_ help, but insofar as the layers of this planet's atmosphere, the honesty ends."

If Optimus understood that correctly, Cyclonus had just wagered for a truce between the two factions so long as they were on Earth. He stood, the moon lording over them, the dark side ever there.

Relieved, he nodded. "Consider it reciprocated."

"It's so pretty!" Optimus looked up from where he'd settled atop the ridiculously sturdy automobile repair shop's roof. In the middle of the courtyard, far from the shade of towers of scrap, sat Hound and Rodimus.

Hound was hunched over, working on something. Rodimus stood beside him, clutching something, grin bright. The human's black top was no doubt boiling hot but the boy made no action to indicate his awareness of such fact.

"It's nothing much," Hound returned, one large turret spread out before him. They'd been fritzing lately, glitching out and dying despite being on their own mainframe. From what Optimus had gathered, nobot knew what was wrong with them, although Hound suspected it was the heat interfering. "You liked the emblem when I showed you so I figured it could be a birthday present. 'Cept, I don't know when your birthday is."

"An early present, then?" Rodimus chirruped, easily avoiding the silent question. "You shouldn't have, Hound! You're too kind."

"Not a bad thing," said the tracker. "You like it don't you?"

"Of course I do!" Rodimus jumped on his feet, quickly chaining a small chain around his neck. From his distance, Optimus had to zoom in his optics to see what it was: a chain that gleamed, easily hooking around the boy's neck with room to spare but not so big that it could fall off. For the pendant was a small familiar cross, a jagged, twelve-edged star with a Matrix-shaped gemstone in its center.

Optimus recognised it well. It was the Symbol of Primus.

Evidently, Rodimus had taken an interest in their god and had appreciated the lore enough for Hound to reimburse his thanks. Seeing the Symbol on a human's neck gave Optimus hope for the future - hope for a time that wouldn't be quite as dark as this one.

"What's the metal? It feels smooth."

"Made it out of an old armour plate of mine," Hound was smiling, the light of his optics bouncing off the chain. His EM field was likely bursting with joy. "So it's a decent mix of quite a few alloys your world has never seen before."

"Ooh," Rodimus gasped in appreciation. "Thank you, Hound! I'm so glad you made this for me. Maggy's gonna be jealous."

"I'm sure," laughed the bigger 'bot. He shooed at the little human. "Skeddadle now, I'm going to start welding."

"Sure thing, boss," Rodimus mock saluted before sprinting off in search of Ultra Magnus.


	10. A Dark, Old Day Without A Sun

The two factions were like the moon, Cyclonus argued; one side could not exist without the other, much like the moon needed the dark side of itself to upkeep a steady orbital rotation. Rodimus found out the mech's view points whenever he grew bored of his book and had shoved his reading glasses into his pocket, bouncing off to find somebot to talk to. Sometimes being the only human around got a little dull but he was with other sentient beings and that helped. It meant that he could still talk with them.

"We would've been nothing without Megatron," Cyclonus said, getting Rodimus thinking about the power systems within Cybertronians. Deep down, he wondered if the Autobots and Decepticons would brand together to reform Cybertron.

He asked Cyclonus such.

The purple mech paused in his cleaning of his armour. His red optics seared through Rodimus, seemingly searching for something. Finally, after a long derisive look around them both - they were along, out in the seldom used east sector - he spoke.

"Perhaps," came the soft admission. "But we would never stand to be under the control of the Autobots. If, say Megatron came back, and agreed to a truce to reform our world, I would be onboard, but otherwise, no. The only reason we are here if because Cemetery Wind will offline us sooner than we wish."

"But," Rodimus stalled. "Megatron's dead."

"Exactly," Cyclonus huffed and that was the end of that.

Rodimus was in the middle of humming something when Ultra Magnus first heard it. There, in the far off distance, was the roar of trucks. Heavy, by the sound of it. When he stained his audials he heard the dust get kicked up, men muttering, the buzz of a comm.

He shot to his feet, booming loud enough for all the Cybertronians to hear. "Three clicks east, a squad of eight trucks."

"Three clicks west as well," was Scrapper's returning shout. "Estimated eight vehicles!"

"Maggy?" Came Rodimus' unsure murmur, beautiful blue eyes staring up at him in that trusting way of his. A small smile made itself known, making his human's eyes sparkle. "Go kick some ass."

"I'll try," he promised. "Go find Scavenger, sweetspark. He'll protect you."

"I know," nodded his sweetling, so trusting, so happy and confident. Already he was skipping off, intent on the far end of the scrapyard where they'd determined would be safest should such an event as this occur. "Love you, Maggy!"

He offered a small smile past the worry. How had they found them, he wondered. "Be safe, sweetspark."

Optimus joined him in the courtyard, battlemask twitching to slip into place. A few steps behind him came Scrapper and Hook. Cyclonus had likely taken up position by the west, with Long Haul, Hound, 'Bee and the two casseticons. Crosshairs and Scavenger would be down south, assuring the perimeter wasn't broken as they simultaneously watched over Rodimus.

**:Protect the 'yard:** came Prime's comm. **:But do not hesitate to abandon it should we become overwhelmed. A base can be replaced, lives cannot.:**

**:Understood, Prime:** came the assent.

Ultra Magnus pulled his pulse rifle from his subspace, clicking it into position. His optics dimmed as he took aim at the place above the metal gate, audials tuning up.

"Two clicks," he announced.

:**Six out of six turrets fully operational:** chimed in Hound.** :Here's hoping they have enough ammo to take them all out.:**

**:Have faith in your own creations, Wrecker:** Scrapper tuned in. His sniper glinted in the bright sun that shone overhelm. The mech had sprawled himself out over the roof of the auto-repair shop, which surprisingly hadn't collapsed under his weight.

Ultra Magnus onlined his optics and pulled his armour down, tight and ready for a fight. "One click."

The buzz of life was clear now, unusual for them being out here in the middle of endless silence. Ultra Magnus steadied himself, reminding his itchy servos that he had to protect Rodimus no matter what.

**:They're being awfully loud:** noted Hook.** :Something seems off.:**

And Ultra Magnus was inclined to agree when the turrets clicked, firing round after round, but not one signal went off his radar.

**:Frag:** yelled Long Haul. **:They've got shields — like the ones Polyhex had!:**

Jazz appeared by Prime's side. Ultra Magnus listened as he watched Scrapper take first aim.

"It's true, just like Poly's." Affirmed the 'bot. "Sensors are dampened. Something's blocking all communications aside from the ones within our immediate vicinity."

**:Slag on a stick:** somemech cursed.

**:Lockdown is within range!:** Hound thundered. The turrets gave ominous whirring whines before slumping. Ultra Magnus frowned.** :The turrets are down. He's hacked the 'frame!:**

With the turrets down, Scrapper took it upon himself to start sniping down the trucks. He got two down before the humans rolled up, countless foot soliders storming out, taking refuge behind everything. Ultra Magnus joined the purge, heat sensors kicking in for an easy shot as he tried the limit of his rifle. The plasma bolts shot out, searing both flesh and metal and soon, despite the pavement of blood he'd created with Scrapper's help, the metal chained fence was all but nought.

"Scrapper!" Jazz yelped at some point. Ultra Magnus looked to his right at the shockwave of heat and found Scrapper gone, the auto-repair shop having been reduced to rubble by one of those glitch-damned energy blasts.

_Frag_, he thought and rocked back, swapping out his rifle for twin swords to duet with Prime as the Cemetery Wind soldiers rushed them. They were halfway through the hoarde when a dozen new signals popped up to the south.

One was larger than the rest.

Lockdown.

The bounty hunter's ship hovered over them, blocking out the beam of the sun. Amidst avoiding the energy blasts each soldier seemed to have, Ultra Magnus found himself struggling against the sheer mass. The grunts over the comm link suggested the others were facing the same problem, without a Lockdown-shaped extra worry, of course.

A shudder rippled through the dust as Lockdown landed amongst the human canon fodder, uncaring of the crunch of bone that signaled a few squished ones. His guns twirled at his sides and Ultra Magnus bent low, ready to take him on. Prime intercepted, his own servos turning into his canon as he got a solar punch and blew a hole through the mech.

Moments later, Jazz pulled him down to avoid a blown out helm. Managing a grunt of thanks, Ultra Magnus dove behind a scrap pile for cover and leaned out to take potshots.

:**Hate t'say it:** growled Jazz. **:But it seems t 'me that we're bein' overrun.:**

**:The number of humans has tripled: **snarled Hook.** :At this rate...:**

**:Regroup!:** Ordered Prime, having dove for his own pile of scrap when the humans converged on his position. Lockdown was surrounded by them now, circled protectively as he sealed himself up.

**:On it!:**

Long Haul crashed onto the scene, a human SUV clutched above his helm. He used the momentary shock to wipe the floor with the humans, providing an opportunity for the three Autobots to take shots. The humans seemed to swarm them, surrounding them from all sides. Without the turrets they were at a severe disadvantage; coupled with the fact every soldier appeared to have an energy canon each, they had a problem.

Optimus ordered they advance through the scrapyard, and so they did, running out towards the west side. Hook joined them, pincer claw whirling by his side as he shredded humans to pieces with singular swings. A wall of humans faced them, a mountain of them rushed behind them. They were cornered, being bumrushed out of their own base.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a snide voice cut in as they cleared the west wall. Ultra Magnus trusted Rodimus to have gotten far enough away by now that he didn't need to worry ab—

They turned, guns primed. A grey haired man strode along the decimated fenceline, held back from them by lines of humans. Ultra Magnus recognised this human — Savoy, the head of Cemetery Wind.

Savoy grinned crudely at them, handgun trained against Rodimus' head. He had the other human in a thick choke-hold, ensuring that no matter how hard the boy struggled he couldn't break free.

"Anybody moves and this kid gets it," he warned. Ultra Magnus tracked his heart rate, scanned his vitals, and found the man wasn't lying.

"Don't—" Rodimus coughed, fingers pale as he clutched at the man's forearm. Tears welled in his eyes. "'m sorry, juk— just go."

Savoy grinned up at them, sunglasses dark and hellish. Ultra Magnus felt himself tense, pistons hammering as his audials rung.

"What do you want?" He growled. Lockdown appeared, wound freshly cauterized and stark against the orange dust of Utah's most isolated scrapyard.

"To see you squirm, big boy," cackled Savoy before shoving his pistol into Rodimus' mouth.

"No!" He thundered. Rodimus' eyes shot wide, afraid and apologetic as they locked gazes. _I'm sorry,_ spoke the quivering lips and teary blue eyes.

Savoy pulled the trigger. Lockdown lunged.

Roaring in anger and internally screaming with hurt, Ultra Magnus met him halfway, clashing in a barrage of sparks and blades. He caught a glimpse of Rodimus falling, throat shot through from the tilted angle, and pressed on, uncaring as to the blade that speared his side and tugged to the right, digging into internals.

Lockdown seemed to come to the conclusion that an angry Ultra Magnus wasn't worth the effort to down in battle but by the time he realised it was nearly too late. Anger could do things to mechs, could make them weak or strong.

Years ago, Ultra Magnus had taken lengths to insure that his anger — however rare — made him strong. It was apparent, it had paid off.

Enraged, he ripped and tore— _shredded and pulled— stabbed and jerked—_ until he couldn't. He attacked until there was too many soldiers to charge and win and servos were pulling him back, soothing words in his ear, promises of revenge. Ultra Magnus didn't want revenge; he wanted his precious, little sweetling back.

When he regained some semblance of self, he realised one thing: he hadn't returned Rodimus' final "love you," instead having brushed it off with something unimportant.

The emotions — everything from shame to anguish; fury to fear — rushed in, tried to suffocate him.

"Love you, Maggy," Rodimus had said. He'd trusted him to protect him and he'd failed him.

(Rodimus' eyes shot wide, afraid and apologetic as they locked gazes. _I'm sorry,_ spoke the quivering lips and teary blue eyes— Rodimus falling, throat shot through from the tilted angle)

He'd zoned out. The blade that pierced his spark let him know it was the last mistake he'd ever make. Lockdown's grin was telling; gleeful and snide. The blade ripped forth from his chestplate, spraying blue with it. The blue reminded him of Rodimus' eyes. Ultra Magnus dropped, a lifeless clatter of metal and energon, and wished it hadn't ended like this.

Jazz mourned the loss of Rodimus as they drove.

Escaping from their base had been hard, made harder by the fact Ultra Magnus was inches away from becoming scrap metal that Prime was lugging behind him on his trailer. Hook had made it clear they needed to patch the mech up but so far they'd had no where _to_ patch him up. Scrapper had lost an arm, Hound was leaking from a few holes and most of them were running on the circuit-stimulating fear of death.

**:I know of humans that could be persuaded to join us: **Prime said, a few hours into the long drive. It seemed they'd lost Cemetery Wind after the first hour. In their rush to flee, Rodimus' body had been left behind, their only casualty left behind aside from Scrapper's arm and Maggy's entire right-side chest cavity.

**:The catch?: **Sideswipe asked, sounding tired. He'd liked Rodimus. All of them had. The loss of the human was a shock that had yet to set in, the image of a gun being shoved down his throat fresh in Jazz' cortex.

**:The persuasion will need to be great:** answered Optimus.

Jazz spoke up, eyeing the forcefully-shifted form of Ultra Magnus his Prime towed. **:I'll certainly try my best, Prime. Anything Ah should know 'bout 'em?: **

**:Cade Yeager: **grunted the big bot. **:I'll ping you all the files.:**

Jazz looked at the databurst send and immediately wished he hadn't. The derisive sense to not do this resided in his processor but then he remembered Ultra Magnus close to offlining in Prime's trailer, saw Scrapper slowing down because his arm was gone and his transformation was straining him, heard Crosshairs speed closer to Hound, and he knew he couldn't let anymore 'bots go because he was feeling bad.

**:Alrigh':** he commed. **:Let's do this.:**

Cade had expected a quiet day in. He'd done all his projects for JI and he wasn't due to call in for a facetime call with Joshua until tomorrow night. Things were going well, he mused as he sat back in his workshop with a cool beer. His newest robo-butler could actually hold the beers and get them over to him, using tracking of his heat signal - which he was quite proud of. The only thing that could've dampened his good mood was the reminder of the truck he'd bought for a thousand dollars only to have it stolen. Joshua had offered to replace it when he'd heard of the catastrophe but Cade had brushed him off.

So there he was, enjoying a nice beer, when Tessa burst in through the door of his workshed. He's on his feet as quick as he can, taking in the frazzled look of his only child. "What's wrong?" He asked, wondering if the cleaning robot had hit the fridge again and started another fire.

"There's like ten cars in the front porch," she said instead. "A Bugatti, Camaro, Jeep, Lamborghini, some construction vehicles and even that semi that got stolen!"

Wide blue eyes, panting, she's telling the truth.

"Grab my gun."

He paused in the afterquake of her words to suck in a breath before he was off, sprinting through his shed door to circle around his house. There, in the front yard as Tessa had said, is a squadron of cars, all none too cheap.

His first thought is: _oh fuck, these are cartel guys, aren't they? Are they smuggling?_

His second: _not in my yard, assholes._

"Hey!" He boomed, striding forth. His gun was inside the house but Tessa sprinting along the yard to get to the backdoor proved she was getting it. Nobody was standing outside the cars but that didn't mean there wasn't anybody here. There was twelve vehicles here, including the semi and the fucking construction site, which meant at least twelve guys.

There was silence for the entire time he stood there. When Tessa came out of the house with his shotgun, they still hadn't moved. He knocked the barrel and all of a sudden there was movement.

And suddenly there's a group of alien robots in his front yard and Cade knows he's gonna die.

"Cade Yeager," one of them said, speaking at a level tone. The thing is purple and black, with what looks like a huge sword strapped on his back that's taller than Cade's house and long spikes on his shoulder pads. "We come in peace. We have a proposition for you."

Tessa looked as pale as a sheet beside him as she stared them down. Cade couldn't feel his toes. His gun seemed pointless now so he lowered it, unsure of when his hands had started shaking.

"What sort of proposition?" He managed to ask. The look the robots shared didn't look nice in the slightest.


	11. Rodimus Awakens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hehehe  
bet I scared you w/that last chap, eh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> misgendering here in the last section but that's technically because they don't know roddy is a guy,,

A man stood over him, the outline blurry against the sweltering oasis-like perfume of heat that had rolled around Rodimus. It was as if he's been bowled over by a dumper truck — maybe Scavenger had gotten out of hand again — but when he blinked and felt the wetness around him the fact that no 'bot had arrived to rescue him was revealing.

"You alright, son?"

Deep, gruff voice. Obviously human. Older than him by a few decades, if the rough knave of his tone told any stories. Rodimus peeled open his eyes once more and stared up at the man who was peering down at him. Whatever he was wearing was too bleak to be noticeable against the colourful background; a background filled with the blue of the sky and the blurred outline of some sort of sign.

The sun was bright in the corner of his eyes, blinding him to a point where his eyes watered from the light's sheer intensity. Rodimus let out a ragged breath, feeling his limbs spread around him haphazardly. Still, the man squinted down at him.

"You hurt?" Asked the older man. On a second attempt a scraggly grey beard made itself known, puffed out before almost glowing orange eyes. Rodimus didn't know humans' eyes were orange; green, sure but not _orange._

Rodimus' mind churned over the question as he reoriented himself. What had happened? How had he ended up here—

"Where am I?" His voice came out haggard and raw, coarse. Almost as if he'd screamed it raw.

"Uh, Mike's scrapyard, Utah. Something happen, son?"

— in a scrapyard in Utah? Rodimus thought back, tried to spin his mind back but only found grainy memories. Pictures that had long scratches down them, like a car's paint after a sandstorm. He wondered how he knew that; he couldn't remember ever owning a car.

"Dunno."

Shadows moved. He opened his eyes again and found the man crouched inches away from him, eyes gazing down with a confused but gentle concern. A hand grazed his temple.

"You don't gotta fever. You dehydrated?"

Rodimus ripped his tongue from the base of his mouth to lick the roof. Even midway through that motion he knew his mouth was bone dry. With the sun now creating a halo around the older man's head, Rodimus' eyes tingled.

"Yeah," an arm helped him up, hot and wrinkled on his back. Up close, the man was tanned, worn from years of work. One of those silver drinking flasks that movie characters held liquor in was pushed against his lips and tilted. Greedily, Rodimus glugged down the slightly warm water. It tasted clean though and that was good enough, especially from a stranger. "Who're you?"

"I'm a blacksmith," said the guy, grey khaki shorts and white wifebeater not even an indication towards the man's chosen profession. Crouched down beside him, practically holding him up, the man smiled and tugged him to his feet. "You know what happened?"

"No," no matter how hard he racked his brains he just couldn't remember how he'd ended up in a puddle in dry bones Utah. Something sparked realisation and Rodimus looked down, wobbling precariously, and stared at the pool of blood. "Am I hurt?"

"That's a question I should be asking you, son," muttered the blacksmith, pulling him around — away from the _big_ pool of pristine red blood. His chapped, rough fingers prodded lightly at Rodimus' back, through the unfamiliar black shirt he wore. There was no pain, only annoyance as he berated himself for wearing _black_ in the _summer._ It was like he was asking for heat stroke.

When the blacksmith was satisfied he was uninjured, he leant back and nodded gruffly towards a range rover by dented metal gates. "I've gotta spare room at home, if you need it...?"

Rodimus was floored at the man's apparent trust in him before deciding the old codger probably had more than his share of gunpowder to blow his head clear if he fucked up. "'Kay," he agreed, legs like jelly as the man helped him to the rover.

"What's your name, son?" Asked the blacksmith once he was safely buckled in the passenger seat and had settled himself in the drivers seat. In the shade of the rover, Rodimus felt light headed.

"'m Roddy," he managed past the haze. He could feel the world slipping by, spinning beyond his fingertips. Colours began to swirl again and soon the man's face was nothing more than a blob of dark negatives. Somehow, he gurgled out more words. "An' you?"

The man responded simply, "I'm a blacksmith."

Rodimus closed his eyes to the bumps of the dusty roads of Utah. Static burbled behind closed lids, voices murmuring quietly to him.

_"... gone... done a number on him... soon... infusion... do it..."_

The blacksmith had a home buried on the outsides of Utah's suburbs. It was a quaint place, with wilted grey flowers stooped in the windowsill pots shacked against every window. A rugged but charming red carpet drooled over the stairs. The garage was converted into the man's workspace, complete with the fire mound and countless shelved swords and daggers, even a few crossbow bolts.

Rodimus had been confined to the guest bedroom for two days whilst coming over the morose effects of heatstroke. It had resulted in the blacksmith giving him a lot of flat cola and a hellish amount of soup that he'd eventually been able to keep down. Now, almost a week later, Rodimus was allowed to sit on a stool in the sweltering workspace and watch the old man hammer at what was turning out to be a very long but thin sword.

"Not gonna be able to stab anybody with that," he hummed, feeling tall on the stool as he watched the man work, hammering away with soft grunts interspersed throughout the loud clangs.

The man stopped his hammering, wiping his brow as he turned to look at Rodimus, positioned just a bit to the side, behind him. "Ain't got no one _to_ stab, son. Not that you can do that with a bow."

"What?" Rodimus straightened on the stool, head tilting towards the blacksmith's creation. Now that it had been pointed out to him, it _did_ look a lot more bow-y. "Ooh. Why you making a bow?"

He turned around again, resuming his hammering for a few more earth-shattering hits before pausing to cool the hot metal in his wooden water bucket with his tongs. Over the hissing of metal settling, the blacksmith spoke. "You sure ask a lot of questions, son. There a reason why I _can't _make a bow?"

Rodimus shrugged at that reasoning, finding something within him twanged at the logic. "So you gonna make arrows too?"

"I was thinking you could."

"Eh?" He blinked up at the elder, interest piqued. "Me? Make an arrow?"

"Multiple arrows, hopefully," chuckled the man. "What good is a single arrow, son?"

"Oh." A moment of silence as the blacksmith pulled back the bow and settled it on the plank of wood specially left out for his work in progresses. "I don't know how."

"It's easy, son. I'll teach you." Orange eyes flicked up to meet blue, sweltering molten pits clashing against oceanic azure. For a moment, everything seemed alright; Rodimus wasn't fretting over lost memories, wasn't curious about that scrapyard or the bent metal gate anymore. The blacksmith offered a gruff smirk and pointed with one of his thick leather gloves. "Grab that mold over there, son. We'll do one now."

_"... prepare... body... infusion 06, transformium attempt... my god... get Silas!"_

The idyllic life stuttered, just for a moment as he blinked. Rodimus sucked in a breath of warm air and stood from the stool, reaching out to grab the mold.

Seth peered down at the tablet, knee deep in the transformium coding. He had to figure out why it wasn't taking to Subject 0. Usually the zero subject was merely a test control but in this case the opportunity had been too good to pass up and the first ever experiment had been carried out on the only subject they had that suited the criteria. Presently the pink haired girl lay behind him, hooked up to more devices than Seth's grandma had been when she'd had a stroke. Under the glass cover, she looked pristine — or she would have, were it not for the gaudy gunshot wound that was stitched over her throat.

Savoy really hadn't held back. The beauty's jaw had been forced out of place by the body of the gun and a few teeth had been cracked by the force he'd jammed it into her mouth. By the time MECH had gotten to the scene for hopeful leftovers they'd been overjoyed to find a body (because Cemetery Wind _never _left bodies) even if it was someone with their throat blown out, blood everywhere. It was kind of a shame too, seeing how pretty the girl was. Even her breasts were nice and Seth wasn't usually a tits guy.

He spared a moment to huff a laugh, sparing the cyro girl a glance. There was something about her that made Seth feel as if she was going to up and vanish but she definitely wasn't going _anywhere._ The body would decompose if it left the ventilated pod that took up the middle of his sterile workspace. A shame too, Seth wanted some fun every now and then.

Years ago, Seth never would've thought he'd be sitting in a lab, using both his medical degree and his computering knowledge to advance scientific studies. Yet here he was, hunched over a computer that could've been (and probably was) older than him, multitasking writing the report for the failed infusion whilst rewriting the transformium's code.

A few months back, MECH had taken down a few robots of their own. Having caught on to what Joyce Industries were _trying_ to do, they'd melted down the creatures for scrap and had successfully pilfered more transformium from their unique burning methods than JI had from six subjects. It was gratifying to know you were better at something than others were but the feeling Seth got from looking over that report had been nothing sort of smug.

Joyce Industries were partnered with Cemetery Wind, who was with that weird green and black robot, and they hadn't managed cow shit. MECH, on the other hand, headed by ex-marine genius Silas Stone, had achieved so much more and they weren't even partnered with anyone!

To say Seth was excited about that was an understatement although todays earlier accident had put a cap on his joy.

They'd ran the sixth transformium infusion with Subject 0 (zero) not three hours ago. The main goal of the project — Project Arsenal — was to weaponize a body with transformium, the residue metal that shifted to whatever the wielder willed. But transformium came with a setback (at least, MECH's did) that was the factual evidence that the host needed to be at least fifty percent transformium, core wise, for even the slightest usage of the unique substance.

Of course that was far too dangerous for any of their men and even Stone had hesitated to offer up soldiers for the project. Everyone knew it could revolutionise them if it worked but the boss needed every man on hand out in the field if they even had a hope of tracking down the remaining robots.

Apparently Cemetery Wind hadn't gotten them all in that scrapyard — who knew! Really, the place had looked like a burial ground for the place, going off the amount of the blue acid laying around.

Anyways, the possibility of the tests killing good men had put Stone off, but as the oversee-er of the project Seth was sure he'd have a change of heart once Subject 0 took... _if_ it took.

He'd figured that a dead body was the best way to go with the transformium infusions. For starters, at least. Of course there was nothing to say the body would control the transformium, or even pop back to life, but the results would speak for themselves. The minute the transformium solidified and began showing its presence was the moment it had taken.

So far it hadn't. Yeah, there'd been a false alarm earlier but after Stone had been called the transformium had floated back into the unmoving bloodstream. Sure, maybe it was the fact Subject 0 was dead and that was why it wasn't working. From Seth's sims the outcome should've been the transforimum rising to protectively cover the 'injured' host. Like it was programmed to. But it hadn't. Even with the host's transformium amount at seventy-six percent there had been no sign of change, no protective bubble of any sort.

Long story short: the transformium's code had went wrong somewhere, Seth had embarrassed himself and now his fellow cubicle lab workers were snickering behind his back about him and his _'dead girl'._

The clock in the corner struck seven but Seth paid it no heed. It was an unpleasant reminder of the test that had taken place exactly three hours ago. He'd been in the code for _two hours_ and still hadn't found anything to say it wouldn't work.

He sighed, sitting up and cracking his back as he kept his eyes on the code scrolling past his screen. Maybe he really did need a live host, but how was he to get one with Stone against the project— he looked up, a brief shimmer of light catching his eye.

Seth froze, not at the sight of the metal dinosaurs in the other room, but at Subject 0 staring at him. It blinked, eyes a stark blue amidst the whitewashed room that was reminiscent of a surgery room.

Heart thudding in his chest, Seth closed his eyes and rubbed them hard enough to see the spots even with them closed. He was tired, had to be, how many hours had he gotten last night; five, maybe four? He jerked as the low screech of heavy glass shifting rung out.

He watched through the glass reflection of the window, immobile, as behind him the cyro pod's glass rose, moved, floated, four long tendrils of white rising out of the Subject's legs and shoulders like tentacles. Subject 0 was stationary as the transformium did her bidding.

As she sat up, rolling forward on the bed in a way inhumane, going up back first, head limp until it rocked forwards with a hollow snap, the crystalline white tendrils spanned out, reaching and feeling everything. It was like some scene from an alien movie, something from Star Wars, or a thing as equally crude. Sitting up, fully naked but glaring him down like a beast, Subject 0 opened her mouth and spat congealed blood.

When she tried to speak her voice came out as a hoarse nothing. Her volume was barely a whisper, her tone nonexistent. Seth jarred to life, figuring out the dynamics.

"Savoy shot your throat out," he said in greeting, always never really socially comfortable. "It's likely your vocal cords need time to heal... uh, if they can."

Could a dead girl heal? That would be one for the history books — what was he saying? This alone, this _revival of the dead,_ was history in the making right now! He'd be famous, so long as he could keep her calm until Stone got here.

Blue eyes that seemed luminscent in the stark blankness of his lab narrowed dangerously. Nerves tingling like hellfire, Seth spluttered on, trying hard to not ramble.

"You were dead. We're MECH, an organisation designed to take down the alien invaders whilst using their tech against them —" a low rumble from the woman's throat had him refiguring his words. From verbal and bodial (as in the way the white transformium tendrils had started swirling around like a angry, fitful octopus) cues, the lady was not happy. "— uh, you were infused with seventy-eight percent of your body mass of transformium; the residue metal from burning down the robot's bodies that can shift and mold into anything the wielder wants."

The woman was still glaring at him but as she flashed her eyes down at herself, her frown became more pronounced. As if summoned, a white skintight suit formed around her. It looked alien in quality, seeming to shift as little cubes of tranformium curled around the outside of the suit, imitating the dust rings of Saturn. The whiteness of its colour was pure and pristine, like fresh snow on an untravelled mountain. She looked like an alien robot chick with the only things human about her being the head and hands, which were the only things uncovered.

"I guess it worked?" He managed a smile, trying to quietly edge towards his emergency use only panic button that was under his computer desk. Millimetres before he could press it, a tendril shot out from the woman's back, lashing forwards to curl around his neck.

Seth found himself being held suspended above the floor, feet dangling by a good meter. For the first time ever, he cursed the high ceiling of his lab. The woman could toss him up like a baseball if she so wished.

Being tugged closer towards the woman, Seth kicked uselessly at the air in an attempt to break free. It was pointless, seeing as the transformium wouldn't break in any form they currently knew of nor had they found any weaknesses in its structure, yet. If she wanted him dead, Seth would die.

Whatever. It wasn't like he had much to lose. The fact that his murderer was a hot chick was a bonus. His lower regions stirred, eager to please. The woman dropped her eyes down there for a moment, and Seth let himself imagine a few of his more pervy fantasies playing out.

Unfortunately, it wasn't fated, as the woman took one glance at him and scoffed mutely. Her tendril released him and he hit the ground hard, only just saving himself from a concussion as his shoulder hit the ground first and jerked him up. As he scrambled to his feet, the woman slid off the cryo pod's hard table back and let her feet hit the ground. She strode around the room, seeming to test her limbs as she walked silently.

The lady was so quiet that Seth couldn't even hear as her oddly sleek white boot-looking shoes treaded along squeaky tiles. He couldn't hear her breathing either. On that note he looked up, finally on his feet, and realized why he couldn't hear the soft puff of her exhalations.

Subject 0 wasn't breathing.

Seth laughed, a tad manic. "You—" he gasped, feeling the world sway around him. This had to be a dream. "You're not breathing?"

The woman thinned her lips in a cruel smirk and raised a prim eyebrow. All at once, she was the picture of intimidating. Seth's heart thumped in his chest, barely relaxing even as her gaze wandered to the windows. He squeaked in fear as her gaze hardened.

She was staring at the dinosaurs. He felt the urge to speak up, if only to save his own skin.

"They're too old to carbon date," he stuttered. "But Olivia thinks they're well over sixty-five million years old."

Still, Subject 0 didn't look at him. She ran a lithe finger down the long of her throat before the white of her skintight suit seized up to cover the base of her throat where the red scar sat like a burn.

"I— I could show you them," he offered, edging towards the door. Okay, he could do this; gain her trust then knock her out with a tool in the hangar and secure her before calling for Stone. He could do that. His old man always had said he had a good swing when they played baseball. "I'm Seth, by the way."

Subject 0 followed him out to the large hangar with the dinosaurs. There was no one about at this hour but he couldn't help but hope a diverging patrol route would stumble over them and ensure Seth lived a little longer. The woman behind him now seemed harmless, little ring cubes lazily floating around her body as she gazed around the large gunmetal grey hangar. He knew better than to relax around her. She'd been with the robots for a reason, he was sure.

He stopped beside the Tyrannosaurus Rex, knowing he'd have to distract her for long enough that he could divert towards the heavy hammers by the far corner (hammers they'd used to break the ice off the robots, after pulling a heist where the JI ship transporting them allegedly _sunk_). "We don't know how they were metal, don't know if they came to Earth like this and they were born robots or if something happened. All we do know is that we have five dinosaurs that are frozen stiff."

"This big guy's a T-Rex." He pointed over to the one with the long neck, "That there's a Brachiosaurus. The one with the line of spines for a back is a Spinosaurus, the one with the two horns is a Triceratops and, well... we're not too sure what the two headed one is but it seems to be some mix of a Pterodactyl and a club tail."

Subject Zero walked up, halting in front of him, neck craned to look at the T-Rex. Seth felt anxiety bubble in his stomach, fighting the urge to shift awkwardly on his feet lest the woman turn and gut him like a fish. He knew it wasn't a far off assumption; no doubt those tendrils could easily sharpen to the grade of a machete. He'd be mince meat before he even knew what hit him.

He knew he'd be dead soon the moment she raised her arm, head still tilted towards the dinos. Seth watched, stricken with horror, as five thin but long tendrils stretched out of her palm and shot towards the frozen dinosaurs. Before he could blink, the tendrils made contact and the bodies of metal shook in a clamour of noise. The metal plates overlapping joints shivered, the limbs quivered and the tails creaked, swaying back and forth and up and down. Ice that had been stuck in their joints and internals either shattered off and fell to the floor ro melted and splashed down in pools of water. Seth held in his scream as the T-Rex shifted one large foot forth and opened its mouth in a mighty roar.

He must've blacked out for a moment, because next thing he knew he was on the ground, getting a side view of the woman running a pale hand along the T-Rex's snout. The dinosaurs had congregated around the woman, heads bowed, feral in appearance.

"What—?" He squeaked, eyes feeling as if they'd bulge out of his head as five prehistoric creatures' heads all snapped towards him, teeth bared in warning. Subject Zero waved a wordless command and Seth stared as the T-Rex hunkered down to let the woman climb onto his head.

A sudden rush of vehemence hit him. Seth rolled to his knees, frowning up at the metal monstrosities. If the woman was gonna kill him, he was gonna go out in style.

"Stone'll get you," he managed. "He'll catch you all and when he does, you'll all die! Like you're meant to, fucking _monsters_."

Subject 0 looked down at him with disdain. He couldn't see past the fear of death and anger clouding his vision.

"He'll be pleased to hear you woke up, just in time for us to begin the hunt for your buddies. I'm sure they'll be dead soon too, don't you worry!"

The two headed winged thing whined, low and scratchy. It made the air tense, the T-Rex stiffening as it lowered its head. Seth opened his mouth, intent on continuing, but found red eyes level with him.

Rethinking himself, he tried to back up, catching the woman's eye. She smiled at him, ever so soft, and crooked two fingers in a parody of a final farewell. The gleaming silver T-Rex reared up, mouth splitting open to unleash a flury of _hothothot_ fire.

He was burnt alive before he could even scream.


End file.
